


All Is Fair In Love

by nothingwithoutyouxo



Series: Love & War [1]
Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, maximum angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwithoutyouxo/pseuds/nothingwithoutyouxo
Summary: All is fair in love, except when it isn’t. Harry Osborn knows that better than anyone.





	1. All Is Fair In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Boy oh boy, I'm probably more excited about this fic than I should be. This is an idea I've had for a while and I've finally started writing it down. I'm not going to lie to you and say that this isn't sad because it is, quite sad actually, even from the beginning, but I hope you guys like it anyway.

All is fair in love, except when it isn’t. Harry Osborn knows that better than anyone. 

 

You’re brought up with the idea that everyone has a soulmate, and that one day you’ll find them and they’ll find you and you’ll live in perfect harmony together for the rest of your days. It’s a concept that’s been around since the beginning of time and is as ingrained in you as 2+2=4. One day, you’ll receive your soulmate tattoo. You’ll wake up and realise that there’s a name on your wrist, the name of your soulmate, written in their handwriting. It could happen at any time, and at any age. Some people get theirs when they’re children, others not until well into adulthood. Once you receive yours, you wear a black armband around it until you find them and you’re not allowed to tell anyone who it is, unless of course they are that person, until you do. 

 

Harry got his when he was eleven. It was just a few months before his parents shipped him off to boarding school. The tattoos don’t appear at the same time, so of course he knew that he had to wait, but at least he knew who it was. Though he’d had anidea for a few years now. When Harry woke up on one surprisingly cold Tuesday morning he noticed the name in a messy script that he knew far too well,  _ Peter Parker.  _ He was smiling for the rest of the week. His first instinct was of course that he had to tell Peter, but he couldn’t. Not until Peter got his tattoo as well. He’d never been more excited for something than he was for that. 

 

Harry was a regular of New York. It probably should have been concerning, letting a child around the city on his own but Harry didn’t care. He’d grown up here, he knew the city better than anyone. It was home, and it never felt more like home than when Peter was with him. Most days he was with Peter. Whether it be at his Aunt and Uncle’s house or just around the city hopping from one hotdog cart to the next. Harry didn’t like going back to his parents. He tried to stay away from them as much as possible. They tended to avoid him so he did the same. It was better that way. 

 

The day that he’d gotten his tattoo he met up with Peter once he finished school. Harry was homeschooled which didn’t take nearly as long as regular school, so he always did a lot of waiting. It was all worth it when he saw Peter’s face light up once he spotted him. He’d make a beeline for Harry and then they just fell into step next to each other, fell into the routine of it all. It hadn’t taken Harry long to realise that he wanted this forever. The tattoo only confirmed that for him. 

 

“You won’t believe what Flash said to me today,” Peter said as a form of greeting. Their wasn’t often ‘hellos’ between them. Goodbyes were even less frequent. Neither of them were fond of those. 

 

Harry rolled up the sleeves of his shirt absently. “Do I need to punch him again?” he asked, knowing full well the relationship that Flash seemed to have with Peter.

 

Peter shook his head, laughing. “No, he apologised. He said that I was stupid for not being able to defend myself but you broke his nose so he thought it would be a good idea not to bother me for a while. At least!”

 

Harry smiled, triumphant and just a little smug. “Good,” he laughed. 

 

Peter’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the armband on Harry’s wrist. He stopped walking immediately and grabbed at it. “No way!” he muttered, fingers skimming over the band absently as he held onto Harry’s wrist. “You got your tattoo already?”

 

Harry shrugged, but didn’t pull away from Peter. “This morning,” he confirmed. 

 

“Can I see it?” Peter smirked. 

 

Harry shook his head. “The rules,” he reminded. “I can’t even tell you who it is.”

 

Peter gave him his famous puppy dog eyes and Harry almost crumbled. It was probably dangerous what he’d do for Peter with  _ that  _ expression, but then Peter laughed and pulled away and the moment was broken. “I’ll know one day,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” Harry smiled.  _ I can’t wait _ .

 

“I’ll know because you’ll be with them forever and you’ll be really happy.”

 

“I hope so,” he muttered.

 

“I know so!” Peter laughed, nudged him with his elbow. 

 

***

 

Nothing had been more painful for Harry then when his parents told him that he was leaving. Boarding school, of course, was so much easier for them. They couldn’t have their son aimlessly wandering the city during the day. Apparently, it was bad form, and considering how well his grades were they decided that boarding school was the best option. They called it an investment in his education and future. Harry called it abandonment. He knew that they didn’t want him around and this was just an easy way to get rid of him. And it would have been easy, if he didn’t have to leave Peter. 

 

Nothing haunted him like the look on Peter’s face when he told him that he was leaving. The hug was even worse, because he never wanted to let go, and it seemed that Peter didn’t either. Peter was determined that it wasn’t fair. He thought that he could change things, that he could convince Harry’s parents that this was the wrong decision. Harry knew that they wouldn’t care what he had to say. If they wanted to get rid of him, and he was sure they had ever since he was born, then they would and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Not even Peter. 

 

***

 

“Harry” Peter whispered. It was late, and Harry probably should have left by now but they were in the middle of a game of Mario Kart and he really didn’t want to go. “Will we still be friends, even when you’re in Europe?”

 

“It’ll take a lot more than my parents for me to stop being friends with you, Pete” he replied, narrowly avoiding running over a banana. If he took the next corner just a little faster he’d be able to pass Peter, but he liked it when Peter won so he slowed down. 

 

Peter paused the game and turned to his friend, because they hadn’t really talked about it. They hadn’t really talked about what happened after Harry left, and once he got on that plane the next day, Peter wasn’t sure what would happen. 

 

“I can write you letters and send you stuff and I think my mum is getting me a phone soon even though she won’t ever call me so when you get a phone we can text and call. Or I could buy you a phone -”

 

“I’ll get myself a phone,” Peter said, because he always denied Harry’s financial help. He’d save up every cent that Aunt May gave him as an allowance, even if it took years. “Letters are good for now.”

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Harry muttered, because he hadn’t told Peter that yet. What he really meant was ‘I don’t want to leave  _ you _ ’ but he knew that Peter knew that. 

 

“We’ll write … and … and message … and call … and I won’t stop talking to you. I promise. And I won’t forget you and you’ll still be my best friend … and even if someone else tries to be my best friend I won’t let them because you’re my best friend.”

 

Harry laughed and tried to pretend that he didn’t feel like he was breaking apart. “Nerd,” he said.

 

And then Peter was hugging him, because Peter liked hugs. He liked them a lot. Harry had never liked hugs, not until Peter. 

 

***

 

Peter never really understood why Harry’s parents cared so little about him. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t like him. He knew that all families were different but it confused him that a family could exist without  _ love  _ as he saw that to be the most essential aspects of one. If Harry’s parents were soulmates, which of course they had to be, then why didn’t they like each other? Why didn’t they like their son? The thought process often brought him around in circles. All he knew was that Harry was unhappy when he was with them and that he’d let him stay whenever he wanted to. Harry didn’t talk much about his family, he tended to avoid the topic as much as possible so Peter knew that he would never truly know what happened when Harry was at home, and maybe sometimes that was a good thing. 

 

Aunt May brought him to the airport on the morning that Harry was leaving. She’d taken the morning off just so she could bring him and he was adamant that he should do the dishes for a month to make it up to her. He knew how important her job was to her, but he also knew that he was more so. That’s what a family was. Or should have been. He spotted Harry and his parents up ahead, neither of them were looking at him. Harry was staring at the ground, Peter could feel the weight on his shoulders from across the terminal. He looked up at Aunt May. 

 

“Go on,” she nodded. 

 

Peter ran. The second he reached Harry he pulled the other boy into a hug. Harry clutched him back. 

 

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” Harry muttered. 

 

Peter buried his head against his shoulder, because Harry had been taller back then, and held on tighter. He was sure that he would never experience anything more painful than this moment. “It’s not your fault,” he replied, defiant as ever. 

 

“I wish I could stay,” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper though he doubted his parents were listening. 

 

“I wish you could stay too.”

 

Harry looked up and saw that May had caught up to her nephew. She offered him a smile that he tried his best to return but he really didn’t feel like smiling. He felt like crying, but he couldn’t do that. Not with his dad here. Harry managed to untangle himself from Peter and made his way over to May. 

 

“Make sure you drink water on the flight,” she said. “And eat something. And try to get some sleep if you can. You’ll be jetlagged when you get there but it’ll pass in a few days at the most. Take care of yourself, and go to all your classes and if you’re sick you have to tell someone so they can help you-”

 

Harry listened and nodded and thought that May was the closest thing he had to a mother. A  _ real  _ mother, at least, since his own didn’t really care for him. “I’ll write,” he said.

 

“You better,” she replied, but there was no anger in her voice.

 

Harry nodded again and let Peter pull him into another hug. Looking over his shoulder, his saw his mother check her watch and whisper something to his father. Norman looked over at him, catching his son’s eye and grimaced. Harry knew that meant his time was up. “Peter,” he whispered. 

 

“No.”

 

“Peter,” he tried again. 

 

“I’m not letting go. You can take me with you. I’m small. I’ll fit in your suitcase.”

 

Harry laughed but it more more of a sob and he knew had to wrap this up before he started crying. He could cry on the plane, but not here. “I’ll write to you,” he said. “I’ll write every day if you want. And then you can write me back. It’ll be fun.”

 

“Fun” Peter scoffed, pulling away enough that he could look up at his best friend.

 

“We’ll be like pen pals,” Harry offered. 

 

“Harry,” Norman said, voice stern. 

 

Peter felt Harry’s entire body go stiff. “I love you,” he said, because that’s what you’re supposed to say to your friends. Especially if they’re leaving the country. 

 

Harry looked down at him for a moment. They’d find their way back to each other. They had to. They were soulmates. “I’ll come back,” he replied. 

 

Peter nodded. He could hear Mr. Osborn muttering something and his eyes flicked to Harry’s parents for a moment. Their time was up. 

 

Harry looked down at his wrist, at the armband that was carefully covering the words  _ Peter Parker.  _ “I love you too,” he whispered and then he had to let Peter go. He picked up his shoulder bag. It was holding his laptop, a few books, stuff he could do on the plane but he thought that maybe he would just stare out the window instead and try not think about how this was his reality now.

 

“Bye May” he said and then turned to face his parents. His mother started ushering him through the gates. Business class was one of the first to board. He felt broken. 

 

Peter watched Harry go until he’d disappeared beyond his line of sight. Then he looked up at the man before him with all the fury that an eleven year old could muster. “I hate you,” he spat.

 

Norman just looked back at him, unimpressed. 

  
Peter turned away, let May pull him into a hug and walked back down the terminal with her. He wasn’t entirely sure how to untangle his feelings from the ball inside him but if he thought that he could put a word to it. One was all he needed.  _ Lost _ . 


	2. Without Problems Or Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title of this fic comes from a cheesy love quote because why not. Here's the one for this week:  
> “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”   
> ― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets  
> I hope you guys like it :)

All that Harry knew was that when he got off the plane he’d never been more exhausted in his life. He’d hadn’t slept. He’d hadn’t really had anything to eat and he’d only had a little bit of water because there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that he  _ needed  _ to. That voice was most definitely May. Most of the time he’d been staring out the window. If anyone noticed that he was crying, they didn’t say anything. He’d never been more grateful to be ignored. He didn’t know that crying made you tired. At least, he thought it did. That had to be why he was so tired. It couldn’t be the altitude anymore. Whatever school he was being sent off to (he’d never even bothered to ask its name) he was sure that he would be unhappy there. He was sure that he would be unhappy until he got back to New York, but that was years away. Maybe the school would be nice, at least, it must be. Harry was sure that it would be nicer if he hadn’t left half of himself back in New York. The further away that he was from Peter - from  _ home  _ \- the more lost he felt. He just felt empty. 

 

When Harry reached the inside of the terminal there was a bored looking man in a suit holding a sign that had his name on it. The man didn’t say anything to him besides confirming his identity. Harry wasn’t sure if he was grateful for the silence or not, it was starting to make him jittery on the drive. He was sort of grateful when they arrived at the school. It looked like any private school he’d ever seen. Large campus, stone buildings that were probably a hundred years old, steps leading up to large double doors. Well, it definitely wasn’t Hogwarts. 

 

A woman with a smile that was forced to seem approachable greeted him. She started talking to him right away about how happy they were to have him there. Harry didn’t listen. He didn’t even catch her name. She gave him a tour of the campus, showed him where all his classes would be and to his dorm. He didn’t have a roommate. Apparently his father had requested it. To Harry this was starting to feel less like a school and more like a prison sentence. By the time the woman left him alone he felt sick. His bags were already up here so he scrambled for a pen and some paper and sat down at the empty desk. There was a small window. He could see nothing but green. Green grass, green trees, green everything. He looked down at the empty paper and started to write his first letter to Peter. 

 

***

 

Peter hadn’t realised until after Harry left that Harry was his only friend. They’d always had each other so he hadn’t needed to make anymore friends. He was lonely and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. It was only made worse when Flash started picking on him again. He guessed that with Harry gone, Peter didn’t have anyone to protect him. The sad thing was, he was right. The first letter arrived just over a week after Harry left. Apparently sending post across countries took time. As logical as that was, Peter wished that it didn’t. He wasn’t home when it arrived but while he was helping Aunt May with dinner, she mentioned it. She must have put it on his desk. He typically avoided his desk since it always reminded him about how much homework he had (two pages for maths was just ridiculous) so it wasn’t unusual that he hadn’t spotted it. 

 

Peter couldn’t stop thinking about the letter all the way through dinner. When he finally made his way up to his room (after helping with the dishes because he offered as much help as he could) the letter was there. Peter practically flew across the room to grab at it. His name and address was written on the front, the neat cursive was unmistakable Harry’s. He didn’t rip the letter open, though he was tempted to. He opened it carefully, trying not to rip the stamps that lined the top and slowly pulled the letter out. More cursive. More Harry. Peter sat down on his bed and scanned the letter. 

 

_ Peter,  _

 

_ I wish that I could tell you that everything here is great, but you know that I can’t lie to you. I thought about it, but I can’t. I’ve only just got here and it already feels like I’m on another planet. I don’t even have a roommate. Apparently Mr. Osborn doesn’t like his son having friends. Not that I would make friends that weren’t you. I guess I just miss you a lot. I hope you’re well, Pete. I don’t know how long this will take to get to you but I hope you write back. I think that’s the only thing I have to look forward to while I’m here. Not that there’s ever been anything else. Tell May I say hi. _

 

_ Harry. _

 

_ P.S. What do you want for your birthday? I’m getting you something. It’s non-negotiable.  _

 

***

 

Harry actually Googled how long it took letters to get to New York. It wasn’t that he was impatient, it was just that he was … incredibly impatient, but only when it came to Peter. The days dragged slowly, his classes seeming to go on forever so every day felt like a week within itself. It didn’t really help. If letters took a week then it would feel like he was only talking to Peter once a year, but at least they were still talking. He couldn’t lose Peter too. Peter was all he had. Peter was all he’d ever had. 

 

Boarding school was off to a terrible start. No one really wanted to talk to him and even if he didn’t really want any friends that still stung. Harry spent most of his time by himself. Mostly in his room. Considering he didn’t really talk to anyone no one came to check up on him. That worked well enough for him. He had enough video games to entertain him at the moment and if he managed to avoid the pressing sadness then it was a good day. He might have played too much Mario Kart. It reminded him of Peter. 

 

When the first letter arrived, Harry felt some of the life spring back into him. His name and the address of the damn school was written in his favourite messy handwriting. The same as the words on his wrist. Peter’s handwriting. He must have clutched the letter to his chest for about half an hour before he managed to muster the courage to open it. 

 

_ Harry,  _

 

_ What if everyone in your school is secretly an alien? Like in that Doctor Who episode. You know, when the private school kids are zombies or something? Maybe investigating that will help cheer you up. I’m sorry that it’s not fun over there. I wish I could do something but I’m not sure if there is anything. If you think of anything, tell me. I really wish you were here. I’m doing ok. As ok as I can be without you. I mean, I think I’m passing everything. There’s a science fair coming up. Don’t worry, I won’t make a volcano. Aunt May says hi back.  _

 

_ Peter. _

 

_ P.S. Don’t get me anything for my birthday. Save your money. _

 

Harry wondered when Peter would realise that being a billionaire meant that he didn’t need to save his money. 

 

***

 

_ Peter, _

 

_ You should make a volcano that’s the size of an entire room and make the lava real so it blows the school up. You’ll have to get first place then. I’m not very good at science but let me know how it goes. I’ll just be over here, in Europe, trying to avoid zombie-student hybrids. If you happen to remember how that Doctor Who episode ended that would probably help. I mean, I could Google it but that would just be too much effort.  _

 

_ I don’t think there’s much you can do, Pete. I think I’m just going to try my best in all my classes. I guess, the sooner I finish here the sooner I get back to New York. Back to you. I think that’s what I need the most. _

 

_ Harry. _

 

_ P.S. If you don’t pick something I’ll have to think of a present myself. You’ve been warned.  _

 

_ *** _

 

_ Harry,  _

 

_ It’s a two part episode. Human Nature and The Family of Blood. Great titles aren’t they? I had to rewatch it again but it ends with a pocket watch. I don’t think that would be very helpful to you. And I think you might need a TARDIS to defeat them. I think you have to burden them with eternal damnation or something. At least, that’s what Wikipedia said. I might be able to buy you a pocket watch. You know, someday. Or you could buy yourself one. You know, whatever.  _

 

_ Things are going well here. I decided what I’m doing for my science project but I’m not telling you. I’ll send you photos when it’s done. I hope you’re ok, Harry. I miss you. _

 

_ Peter. _

 

_ P.S. You say that like I don’t trust you.  _

 

***

 

_ Peter, _

 

_ I’m offended that you’re not going to tell me straight away, but I guess now I have to get used to waiting. You’re really testing my patience, Parker. I think I’m kind of good at math. Maybe I picked something up from my dad after all. I guess he would be pleased about that. Might be the only time he’s pleased with me.  _

 

_ I forgot to mention that you should tell your Uncle hi from me as well. Oh, and ask May how her new job at the hospital is going. And tell her that I miss her cooking. The food here isn’t bad it’s just … not as good as hers. I don’t really eat too much anyway. We have to eat in the cafeteria with everyone else. I don’t really like having people’s eyes on me. By the time you get this you probably would have finished your project, but I hope it goes well. I could always bribe the teachers to give you first place. You know I’d do anything for you. _

 

_ Harry. _

 

_ P.S Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m buying your present right now. With any luck it’ll be on its way to you soon. I hope you like it.  _

 

***

 

_ Harry, _

 

_ First of all, you overestimate my ability to be productive. I have weeks to work on this project. Uncle Ben is helping me with it. He says hi back, by the way. He’s flattered that you thought of him. Aunt May says that her new job is going well. She’s not really sure how you know that she has a new job since she’s only just started but I think she’s scared to ask. Maybe I am too. I hope you’re not stalking us or anything. That would be a little weird. Even for you. Not that you’re weird because you’re not. Ok, maybe you are, a little. I think I’m a little weird too. Maybe that’s why we’re such good friends. I miss you, and your weirdness.  _

 

_ Harry, please don’t stop eating. I’m sure you can work something out. Tell the other kids that I’ll come and fight them if they stare at you. Like you helped me with Flash. I think it would take me awhile to get there but if you want me to I will. I mean, I could. Theoretically. I think that’s my new favourite word. Theoretically. I like it a lot.  _

 

_ Peter. _

 

_ P.S. This isn’t very fair. The suspense isn’t fun. Can you at least tell me what it is? _

 

***

 

_ Peter,  _

 

_ I expect photos, annotated and taken at every important interval so that I can watch your progress. I’m not sure what it is but I know it’ll be amazing because you’re making it. Maybe you’ll become so smart that Oscorp will have to take you in. You’ll be one of their best and brightest. I think that would be kind of funny.  _

 

_ I miss you too, Pete. Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you. I just think about you a lot. Is that weird? Theoretically is a good word. If that’s your favourite then what’s your second favourite?  _

 

_ Harry. _

 

_ P.S. No. _

 

***

 

When the parcel arrived it was heavier than Peter had expected. It actually arrived the day of his birthday by some kind of amazing stroke of luck. Aunt May was the one who opened the door. She had to sign for it so that must have meant that it was something special. Or something expensive, he could never really tell with Harry. He really hoped that it wasn’t something expensive. He didn’t want Harry to spend his money on him, whether he had a lot of it or not. 

 

The parcel was quite thin, which made him somewhat relieved because that meant it had to be something small. Smallish, at least. He waited until after dinner. Aunt May made his favourite which somehow made him a little smug. Then there was cake - ice cream cake, with three different flavours, he was in heaven. He opened his present from Uncle Ben and Aunt May first. He knew it was something they’d been saving up for for a while. He’d never felt more loved in his life. 

 

Inside the parcel was a haphazardly wrapped rectangle. He knew that Harry had wrapped it himself. It wasn’t the perfect gift wrapping that companies offered. The paper was red and blue - his favourite colours - and just that alone made him smile. There was a small note. Neat cursive lining a very small blank card adorned with three little balloons. 

 

_ Happy birthday, Pete.  _

 

_ Harry. _

 

Peter spent longer than he should have just starting at the note. And the wrapping paper. He hadn’t even opened it yet and it was already making him giddy. 

 

“Well, go on then,” May prompted, sharing a fond look with her husband. 

  
He didn’t even rip the paper. Not like he had with his other present. He carefully pulled off the sticky tape and slid the present out of the paper. It was a book. A book on bio-chemical engineering. Peter never knew that he could smile this much. He might have needed to Google a lot of the big sciency words but he’d never been happier in his life. He stayed up all night reading it, and Aunt May didn’t even come into his room and send him to bed. He was exhausted the next morning, but it was worth it. He now had both a second  _ and  _ a third favourite word. He couldn’t wait to tell Harry.


	3. It Makes You So Vulnerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just started back at uni and I've been so caught up in it I almost forgot to update this. But here's the next chapter! It's going to get even sadder from here on out, friends, my apologies.   
> This weeks title quote:  
> “Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.”   
> ― Neil Gaiman, The Kindly Ones

Boarding school went from bad to worse and Harry hadn’t realised that was even possible. None of the other students spoke to him directly, but they would often break out into whispers as he walked passed, or when he left a room. It made him anxious in a way he hadn’t really experienced before. He’d always been so confident, but there was a part of him wishing that Peter would come and save him, like he said he wanted to. He even considered asking Peter if he could fly him out, but that was ridiculous. This was something Harry needed to face on his own. He just didn’t know how. 

 

He used Peter for motivation for everything that he did. He had to eat because Peter would want him to. He had to go to classes because Peter would tell him how important they were. He had to study because Peter would want him to do his best. He couldn’t be sad because Peter wouldn’t want him to be sad, but that last one was getting harder and harder the more time that passed. He’d never felt so isolated in his life, even with the letters still coming as regularly as ever. He’d been trying to avoid telling Peter how bad it was getting. Peter’s letters were always so cheerful. They were so … Peter. Harry didn’t want him to worry about him, because he knew that Peter would. He just couldn’t let Peter down like that, but he was the only person that Harry had to talk to. And he always had the answers. So with shaking hands he sat down at the desk in his room, stared out the small window for a moment and watched some of the other boys play a game of soccer on the grass. Then he picked up his pen and started to write. 

 

***

 

It had been months and Peter was starting to get worried. Even if he and Harry had kept up their letter exchange the whole time, he knew that something was wrong. Harry’s letters were getting shorter and at this point they were just responses to whatever Peter wrote in his. He didn’t talk about himself anymore which must have meant that something terrible was happening at boarding school. Peter didn’t like that he couldn’t be there for Harry when he obviously needed it. He hated that he didn’t have enough money yet to buy a phone, or a computer, or something that he could use to have some kind of way to messaging Harry which didn’t take a week. He could almost feel that Harry was less … Harry than he used to be. Less lively and less everything that made him special. Peter had never been more worried about losing his favourite person. When Harry’s latest letter arrived that didn’t help in the slightest. In fact, it made things even worse, because now Peter felt guilty too. It wasn’t a feeling he could avoid, even if there was nothing he could do. 

 

_ Peter, _

 

_ I’m so sorry. I’m trying really hard to keep these letters happy because I don’t want to upset you, but I just need to talk to someone. I need to talk to you specifically and I’m sorry if this upsets you because I never want you to be sad, Peter. I really don’t, but I just need to talk about this. And you’re my best friend. You’re … everything, Peter. I hope that you know that.  _

 

_ It’s bad here, Pete. They don’t like me here. I don’t like myself here either. I don’t think I ever really have but that’s a different story. They keep whispering things behind my back and I have no idea what they’re saying but I know it must be bad, because they all laugh. I think they see me as a joke and I’m trying to ignore them but it’s really hard. I think about you a lot, to get me through all of this because I know that’s what you would do if you were here. And sometimes I want you to be here. I mean, I always want you to be here but sometimes it’s just for that reason. I’ve never needed to be protected, Peter, and I know that you think I’m really brave but I’m really not. However you see me … I’m not that.  _

 

_ I’m still eating and I’m still going to class and I’m still studying because I know you would want me to, but I really don’t want to be here anymore. I know my parents won’t let me come back to New York so I’m stuck here but it’s really hard, Pete. I thought I could do this, but I don’t know if I can. I get sad a lot. I don’t know how to stop being sad. And it’s not your problem and I know there’s nothing you can do about it but you’re all I have, Peter. _

 

_ I think what I’m trying to say is I’m scared.  _

 

_ I’m sorry again. _

 

_ Harry.  _

 

Peter didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that his best friend was hurting and he had to do  _ something _ . So he made his way down to the living room where Aunt May was, sitting with a book resting in her lap. She looked up at him when he entered, noticing immediately how rattled he looked. 

 

“Peter, what’s wrong?” she asked, turning instantly concerned and putting the book aside.

 

Peter approached her slowly and held the letter out to her. “I don’t know how to help him,” he whispered. 

 

May knew immediately what this was about. She’d been concerned about Harry since he left. She knew just how much he and Peter meant to each other. They were pretty much joined at the hip and separation wouldn’t be easy on them at all. She scanned the letter quietly. Then she placed it aside and for a long moment she said nothing. Just when Peter was starting to get restless, and incredibly upset (he’d been fighting tears since he’d first the letter), she pulled him into a hug. 

 

***

 

The next letter that Harry received was the shortest that Peter had ever sent him. All it had was a phone number and two words scrawled in Peter’s messy handwriting. 

 

_ Call me _ .

 

Harry couldn’t breathe. He scrambled for his phone and hoped that it still had enough battery to make a phone call. He usually left it off, considering that he had no one who would bother to contact him anyway. Sometimes he would get a text from someone at Oscorp, posing as one of his parents. He never replied. Harry stared at the piece of paper for longer than he should have, waiting impatiently for his phone to turn on. His foot tapped against the carpeted floor in a succinct pattern. Just as his phone flicked on, demanding his passcode he remembered that he should probably check what time it was in New York. He didn’t want to wake Peter or anything. By the time Harry managed to dial the phone number he was almost out of breath. He wasn’t aware that he was holding it until then. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Peter,” he whispered. Every inch of life that had left him since he’d been there started flooding back with just that one word. The voice was just so familiar. 

 

“Harry! You got my letter! You called!”

 

“Yeah, I called. You got a phone?”

 

Peter laughed that delighted little laugh that Harry was so familiar with. He felt his heart jolt at the sound. “Yeah, Aunt May helped me buy it. She said that I could pay her off by helping around the house and everything. I showed her your letter, I hope that’s ok. We thought this would be a good way to help you, because now you can text me and call me and it won’t take a week for me to get your messages.”

 

“Pete, you didn’t have -”

 

“I know, but I wanted to. I want to help you, Harry. I already help with the dishes anyway. Nothing will change here, I promise.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say. He knew how tight money could be for Peter and his family. The fact that May had done this for Peter … for both of them. “You have to thank her for me,” he said.

 

“I will.”

 

There was a pause where neither of them knew what to say, or how to start this conversation. 

 

“Do you need to talk about it?” Peter muttered.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

 

“If you need time, you have it.”

 

Harry was absolutely sure that he’d never done anything good enough in his life to deserve Peter. He ran the fingers of his free hand over his armband absently, over Peter’s name etched onto his skin. “I miss you,” he replied.

 

“I miss you too, Harry. I don’t think I’ve had a hot dog since you left. I think that’s the first thing we need to do when you get back,”

 

To Harry, it was starting to feel more along the lines of  _ if  _ he got back instead of when he did, but that wasn’t something that he was ready to tell Peter. “How are you surviving without hot dogs?” he asked instead. 

 

“You know, it’s harder than you would think” Peter mused. “I don’t think you realise how much time you spend thinking about them until you’re not eating them anymore.”

 

“You know, Pete, I never asked you to give up hot dogs,” he reminded.

 

“Oh, I know, but they remind of you and … I don’t know. It feels weird having them without you.”

 

“I’ve been playing a lot of Mario Kart. For the same reasons, I think.”

 

Peter laughed and Harry felt as if a jolt of electricity flow through him. “It’s kind of nice knowing that you miss me as much as I miss you. Feels less weird that way.”

 

“For all you know I could miss you more,” Harry smirked. 

 

“Pffft.”

 

“What? Pete, it’s totally valid.”

 

“I think you might underestimate how much I miss you.” Harry didn’t need to see Peter to know that he was smirking. He was so smug.

 

“I could say the same about you.”

 

The two of them paused for a moment before breaking out into laughter. 

 

“Is it getting late over there?” Peter recovered.

 

“Uh, sort of. I guess.”

 

“I kind of need to get ready for school.”

 

“Oh that’s right, it’s morning over there.” Harry looked out his tiny window. He could see the sun starting its descent over the horizon. “This is weird,” he muttered.

 

“Time zones are weird,” Peter agreed. 

 

“So,um, how’s school?” Harry asked. He was very aware that he was stalling, and that wasn’t fair to Peter, but he just didn’t want to hang up. 

 

“It’s alright. I have this quiz tomorrow but I’ve been studying for a while so I should be fine.”

 

“Nerd.”

 

“Dork.”

 

They hesitated. 

 

“I shouldn’t keep you,” Harry muttered.

 

“You can still text me if you need anything. I’ll reply when I can.”

 

“I appreciate that.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Pete-”.

 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, his voice dropping a little. “I love you too. Talk later?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“Bye, Harry.”

 

“Bye, Peter.”

 

Then the line went dead and Harry could feel the sadness creeping up on him again. He put his phone down and stared at the number on the screen for a long time. This was good. This was helpful. This was definitely what he needed. He quickly turned to his laptop, logging into a few accounts and setting up a money transfer to May’s bank account. It was more than what the phone would have cost, no matter what phone it was, but it was the least he could do. May had done this for him as much as she’d done it for Peter. Harry couldn’t shake the thought that this must have been what it felt like to have a family. He’d never really experienced that before. Peter was his family. Peter, May and Ben more so than his parents had ever been. He wrote May a little message before sending it off. 

 

_ May, I can’t thank you enough. I hope this covers it. Don’t tell Peter.  _

_ Harry.  _


	4. How Much The Heart Can Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is fairly short in word count but it felt long enough in length because it's comprised of a fair few text conversations between them. Next week's will be longer to make up for it. I hope yous guys like it anyway.   
> This week's chapter title quote: “Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.”   
> ― Zelda Fitzgerald

When Harry turned sixteen two things happened. The first was that he received a bottle of whisky from his father. It was obvious that he’d somehow lost track of Harry’s age (which didn’t surprise him) and the card was so generic that Norman must have instructed one of his assistants just to send  _ something _ . It wasn’t like he’d ever remembered Harry’s birthday before anyway. 

 

The second thing was that Harry downed the bottle in a few hours and started texting Peter while incredibly intoxicated. 

 

Pete

Peterpeterpeterpeterpeter

Peter peter pumkin eater

 

Pumpkin eater? Pumpkins are gross

Harry, are you ok?

 

Never been better petie i feel all fuzzy inside

 

Wait 

Are you drunk?

 

Like a cake

Wait   
No

Thats baked

Whats the thingy for drunk?

 

Wasted?

 

Yes

Wasted

I am very very wasted

 

How did you even get alcohol at boarding school?

 

My dad sent it to me

For me birthday 

I think he though i was older

 

Oh

  
  


How much did he send you?

 

Bottle of whisky

 

And how much did you drink?

 

The whole thing

Its fun petie

This is fun

It makes you forget how sad you are

 

Do you want to talk about it?

 

Bout what

 

How sad you are. Harry, you probably shouldn’t have drank that much 

 

Probs

Im not 

Responsible

Or brave

Or good

Or whatever you think i am

 

You’re all of those things. Especially brave

 

Nah

Not brave 

 

Yes brave

 

Not brave

Ill prove it

Fight me

 

Damn, bro, you really are wasted

 

I miss you petie

I think about you a lot

Still

Is that weird

 

I miss you too, Harry

You know that

 

I keep thinking that itll get better

But it doesnt

But then theres you

Your all the things i cant be

 

Maybe having the whole bottle was a bad idea

 

I dont care

 

Yes you do

 

It helps me forget

 

Harry, that’s not good path to go down

 

I never forget you

 

Is that a bad thing?

 

You’re all I have petie

Your all i ever had

I love you

 

I love you too

 

Gayyyyyy

 

Nerd

 

Dork

 

Harry, I’m worried about you

 

Why?

 

Is it getting worse?

 

Its alwys worse

 

I wish i could do something to help

 

Your existence helps

 

How?

 

Hope

Little petie parker

Beacon of hope

 

You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning

 

If i skip classes tomorrow will you be mad

 

Of course not, Harry

 

Good

I do this for you

I think

I dont know

 

You do school for me?

 

No

Live

I live for you

Does that make sense?

 

Harry 

Are you sure you don’t need to talk about it?

 

Theres nothing to talk about

 

Well, I’m here if you need me

But I think you should get some sleep

 

Do you need sleeep?

 

No, I need to go to my next class

I’ll keep my phone on 

Text me if you need anything

 

You

 

Sure, I’ll just jump on a flight right now then

 

Ifff only

 

Get some sleep, Harry

I’ll be here tomorrow

 

Good

A world without petie peter

Is not a world i want to live in

 

Night, Harry

 

Night, Peter

Is alcohol supposed to make you sleeeepy like this?

 

Sort of 

 

Ok

I loove yu

 

I love you too, Harry

 

Nerd

 

Dork 

  
  


***

 

The next morning Harry felt like he’d been hit by a truck that was going about a thousand miles an hour, which then pushed him off a cliff, impaling him on a trillion different rocks before he eventually drowned. His head was a mess and he felt like if he moved he was going to hurl. He’d never felt this bad in his life. There was no way in hell he was going to make it to class today. He couldn’t remember anything from the night before. He’d gotten a bottle of whisky from his father. Then he must have drank it. The empty bottle was sitting on his desk next to his computer and he was still fully clothed so he must have just collapsed from exhaustion at some point during the night. 

 

Just when Harry thought he couldn’t feel any worse, he checked his phone. He’d texted Peter last night, because  _ of course  _ he had. Scanning the messages quickly, Harry couldn’t help but cringe at just how  _ needy  _ he’d been. Even if Peter never mentioned this again, he was somehow never going to live this down. His only solace was at least Peter wouldn’t really  _ care _ . They were best friends after all. Peter knew him better than anyone. He probably wouldn’t mind if Harry somehow ended up being a little more affectionate than usual when he was drunk. Peter was usually pretty affectionate anyway (All those hugs. Sometimes Harry missed those the most). There was a new text, one from Peter earlier that morning.

 

_ You keep your asprin in the second drawer of your desk. Take two with a cup of water (tap water is fine) and then don’t go to class until it passes. Or at all today. _

 

Peter Parker was too good for him and he was constantly reminded of the fact. 

 

***

 

When Peter turned sixteen, two things happened. The first was that Harry got him a camera. A really expensive camera with about five different lenses that he would never be able to thank him enough for. It would have cost Harry well over a few thousand dollars. He brushed it off easily and gave Peter some spiel about how money was never a problem for him and spending the money on Peter was just about the best thing he could think of doing with it all. Peter would never fully grasp just how easily people with money could throw it away. 

 

You really didn’t have to

 

Are we doing this again, Pete?

I told you, it’s fine

 

I’ll never be able to thank you for this

 

You don’t need to thank me

You know that

 

That’s not how I was raised

You know that

 

Throwing my own words back at me

Classic Peter move

 

You’re acting like this isn’t a big deal

 

It’s not to me, Pete

Spending money on you isn’t a big deal

 

You didn’t have to 

 

It was for your birthday

You’re acting like I just gave it to you randomly

 

I know but

 

Not that I wouldn’t do that

 

You really didn’t have to

Wait what

 

Nothing

All you have to do is thank me

You’ve done that a lot, you know

 

Doesn’t seem like enough

 

Peter, it’s fine. I promise

 

Does your dad care about you spending money like this?

 

My dad doesn’t care at all

Period

Don’t you trust me?

 

You know I do

 

The best way that you can thank me

Is by using that camera

Deal?

 

Ok

Deal

 

Good. I expect some sick sunset shots

 

Sometimes I forgot that the romantic side of you exists

 

Cheesy, I know but you can

Never get enough of a good sunset

Wait

Romantic?

 

I was joking, Harry

 

Oh

Of course

 

The second was that Peter got his soulmate tattoo. Two words etched neatly into the skin of wrist and somehow he felt like more of a person that he had the day before. Not that his life revolved around finding his soulmate or anything, but a lot of people at school had started getting theirs, and usually people would make a big  _ thing  _ out of it. Getting your soulmate tattoo was almost like a coming of age thing. Peter had been starting to feel a little left out, but at least now he knew who he had to look for. 

 

Harry Theopolis Osborn

You’ll never guess what just happened

 

Whatever it is it’s not a good enough

Reason to use my middle name

 

Just guess

 

Why don’t you just tell me?

 

Because that takes the fun out of it !!!

 

Like how you found it fun to use

My middle name

 

Harry

Please

 

Fuck

I don’t know

 

Exactly 

That’s why I said you’ll never guess

 

You’re running yourself around in circles, Parker

 

I got my soulmate tattoo

 

Wait

Really?

 

I wouldn’t lie to you

 

Wow

Pete

That’s amazing

 

I know !!!

 

So 

Who is it then?

 

My soulmate?

 

Yes

 

I can’t tell you

 

What do you mean you can’t tell me?

 

Because 

 

Peter, you remember who you’re talking to right?

It’s me

Harry

Your best friend

 

I know

And I kind of want to tell you

But I can’t

 

Why?

 

The rules, you dork

You’re not allowed to tell anyone

 

Oh 

Well

Congratulations anyway, I guess

 

I’ve finally caught up to you

 

Yeah

 

I can’t believe you’ve had yours since we were 11

 

Me either

 

You ok?

You’re kind of quiet

 

Just trying to work through this assignment

 

Oh shit

Talk later then?

 

Sure, Pete

 

=D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see you all next week!


	5. Winged Cupid Painted Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So I did actually post this earlier but my Wi-Fi shut off just as it was supposed to post thus didn't post. But it's here now, and I hope you all enjoy it!  
> Chapter title quote:  
> “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,  
> And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”  
> ― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream  
> (Nothing like talking good ol' Shakespeare out of context)

Harry had never been more confused in his life. The rules about your soulmate were very, very specific and were ingrained in you since birth just like the concept itself. You weren’t allowed to break them at all, but still it didn’t make sense. The rules were that you couldn’t tell anyone who  your soulmate was until after you’d found them, and that you couldn’t tell your soulmate until they got their tattoo as well. None of that applied to the two of them now. He’d already met Peter. Harry’d had his tattoo since he was eleven. They could tell each other.

 

The only solution that Harry could think of was that maybe Peter was waiting until after he got back to New York. He guessed that that made sense since they couldn’t really _do_ anything about being soulmates until after graduation. Maybe Peter was trying to surprise him? But why tell him he got his tattoo in the first place? Harry was slowly running himself around in circles. He could wait. There were only two years left until both he and Peter graduated. Then he could go back to New York. Harry had already waited five years, two years was nothing compared to that. He could wait two years.

 

***

_Harry,_

 

_Teachers have already started talking about college applications. It’s starting to freak me out. I’m not even a senior yet, I don’t want to think about that. I mean, I think my GPA is going to be high enough but … I really don’t want to think about any of that yet. I hope you come back to New York before college. I don’t think I can wait another four years to see you. That’s really not fair. Will your parents make you go to some fancy European college?_

 

_Peter._

 

***

 

_Pete,_

 

_You know you could just text me right? Not that I don’t appreciate the letters. I really do, but if you have a question, you have my number. I haven’t started thinking about college yet and I can’t believe you reminded me of its existence. Your GPA is probably the highest ever recorded, you massive nerd. I’ll be back after graduation, my parents wouldn’t dare keep me away for longer than that._

 

_Harry._

 

***

 

_Harry,_

 

_I know I could just text you but this is more fun. It’s just like old times, right? And plus, sending you these in physical form is kind of nice. It feels more real? Does that make sense? Well, here they are, the latest batch of sick sunset shots for your appreciation. Do you even look at them or do you just keep them in the envelope? I’m genuinely curious._

 

_Peter._

 

***

 

[image received]

Does that answer your question?

 

You put them up on your wall?

 

They’re art, Pete

Brightens the room a little

 

I don’t know what I expected

But thank you

 

Yeah, I show them off to my thousands of friends

They’re all like ‘wow who took those sick photos’

And I tell them ‘my best friend Peter Parker’

They’re blown away by your talent of course

 

Dork

 

Nerd

 

It’s not talent really

Just practice

 

Modesty remains one of your best traits

 

Hah

 

You should put them up in your room

 

That would feel weird

Like self-gratification or something

 

Still have that Spyro poster?

 

[image received]

 

What the fuck happened to it?

 

Apparently there was a cat at some point

I don’t really remember

 

Pete

This is tragic

This is the death of a hero

 

I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it =P

 

Are you kidding?

I spent hours watching you play Spyro, dude

You were always so happy doing it

 

That’s such a random thing to remember

 

Oh

Sorry

 

Nah nah

I can remember thrashing you at Mario Kart

A few hundred times

 

Oh really?

 

Yeah

 

I think your math’s a bit off there, Parker

 

Nah

 

Fine

When I get back to New York we’re playing Mario Kart

 

And I’ll thrash you

The circle of life

 

I hate you

 

No you don’t

 

You’re the worst

  


***

 

Once Harry got used the idea of time passing he fell back into the routine of it all. One more year was nothing, and at least his school work was getting hard enough that it could genuinely distract him from everything else. Part of him wasn’t sure why the feeling of missing Peter Parker hadn’t faded, even if he knew the reason for that was written on his wrist.

 

They talked less these days, with both of them gearing up for finals and graduation and with Peter shuffling through college applications it was all starting to pile up. Harry received word a few weeks before his graduation that his father was on the verge of dying, the disease finally taking hold of him. All that Harry knew was that he had no idea what to feel. Mostly, it was a whole load of nothing, then relief, and then a little guilt. Then back to anger. At least he knew he’d have a place in New York when he got back. Another place, that wasn’t just beside Peter. Considering he was his parents’ only child, the company would be passed down to him. He knew what people would say, so on top of studying for finals, he studied Oscorp. There was no way he was going to let people think he wasn’t fit for running the company. When you’re in a position where you’ve lost everything, you have all the more dedication to gain.

 

***

 

Peter was exhausted all the time. Being Spider-Man and trying to finish high school wasn’t really a good combination. He was running on a lot less sleep than he should have been but his grades were somehow steady. Maybe someone out there was looking out for him after all. After losing Uncle Ben earlier that year, his family life had been that much harder as well. Peter needed to be an expert at balancing all of that, which was something he’d never quite been able to grasp.

 

A part of him was so so grateful that high school would be over soon. Maybe he could ignore the thought of college for a little just so he could get his life back together. That would be more than helpful. What Peter seemed to never have enough of was time.

 

***

 

“Hey Osborn!”

 

Harry never really realised how much he would miss hearing his first name. He was kind of hoping that he wouldn’t see anyone on his way out. Leaving felt amazing enough as it was and he didn’t want that hindered by some annoying interaction with literally anyone that went here.

 

“What?” he asked, looking over at the boy who’d spoken. He didn’t know his name but he recognised his face, and that was more than enough for Harry to know that he didn’t want to have this conversation.

 

“It was nice knowing you.”

 

“You threatening me?”

 

The boy smirked, but shook his head. “Nah man. They’re right about you being uptight. I hope you find your person, you know” the boy nodded to Harry’s wrist and the armband resting on it.

 

Harry never really know how to handle interaction that wasn’t inherently hostile. “Um. Thanks” he muttered. “I hope you do too.”

 

“When I figure out who they are,” he shrugged. “Guess I won’t see you around anymore.”

 

“Kind of the point of getting the fuck out of here,” Harry reminded.

 

The boy nodded, rubbing his bare wrist absently.

 

“Are you ok?” Harry found himself asking.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know you didn’t get the best treatment here, but I hope you know that you’re lucky.”

 

“Doesn’t feel like it most of the time,” he shrugged.

 

“Have a good life, Osborn.”

 

***

 

Harry hadn't missed flying. He wasn’t really the biggest fan of heights in general but at least he knew that he’d actually be _home_ when he got off the plane this time. He couldn’t wait until he spotted New York, nothing felt more like home to him than the lights in Town Square. And then there was Peter. Peter who was graduating later that day (he knew that thanks to May). Peter who didn’t know that Harry was coming to said graduation. Peter who he’d been dying to see for seven years. Harry couldn’t wait to get back to New York.

 

Obviously he was expected to head straight to Oscorp when he arrived, but sneaking around New York was second nature to him. It didn’t take much for him to convince Oscorp employees and security guards that he would be there. It didn’t take much for him to avoid them at all costs, and then catch a cab to Peter’s high school instead. He’d see them later anyway. Harry always held his priorities in order. Plus, this gave him a reason to avoid his parents for just a little while longer.

 

***

 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure why Peter’s graduation was such a massive _thing_. It wasn’t even at the school, but by the waterfront where literally anyone could see them. In fact, there were people walking around and going about their daily lives around him. Maybe Midtown just wanted to have something that announced how proud it was of their students, he guessed that that wasn’t the worst thing that could happen at a graduation. His wasn’t really all that special. His parents didn’t even come. Maybe they’d forgotten about his existence again, not that Harry really minded at all. Maybe his father was a little too busy dying. He didn’t really care at the moment. He was a little too jittery with the fact that he would see Peter soon. He was probably in the crowds around him. Harry could hardly breathe.

 

It took him awhile to find May. He’d sort of forgotten how large graduating years could be. There were the families of at least a few hundred students around, and May was as tiny as he remembered her being. He saw a few people give him second glances, casual once overs and then whispered to the people next to them. Harry wished that boarding school had made him used to that, but he was much more nervous about it than he let on.

 

“May,” he greeted, startling the woman. She looked almost lost amongst all the other families. Harry thought that she must have missed her husband now more than ever.

 

May smiled the second that she spotted him. She beamed up at him with what seemed to be pride and Harry wasn’t sure how to respond that. “Harry! Oh, look how grown up you are.”

 

“It’s been a while,” he mused. “Seven years, I think.”

 

“Seven years! It doesn’t feel that long,” she muttered.

 

“May, I’m sorry about -”

 

“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re here now so I’m not lonely. Now come here,” she laughed, pulling him into a hug. “You’re so tall now.”

 

“Guess I’ve grown a little,” he shrugged.

 

“Peter will be so happy to see you.”

 

And he would be more than happy to see Peter. It’s not like he’d been waiting seven years for it or anything. “I hope so,” he replied.

 

“He’s missed you.”

 

“I’ve missed him too. Both of you. It feels good to be home.”

 

May smiled up at him again and they chattered about Europe and New York and whatever little things popped into their heads until everyone started taking their seats. There were rows and rows of blue graduation robes and caps and Harry was starting to feel a little giddy knowing that Peter was one of them, and that he had no idea that Harry was here. He hoped he would be happy to see him. He didn’t know what he’d do if Peter wasn’t happy. If he was angry or something else. Harry had never dealt with anger well.

 

***

 

The ceremony started off the same way he expected it to. The principal of Midtown High School made a long speech about how proud he was to see the students grow over the last four years, or whatever. It’s not like he could name more than a handful of them. Then he introduced some blonde girl, the valedictorian of the year. Harry knew that was an incredible accomplishment, and that this girl must have been insanely smart, but all he really wanted was to see Peter, which he couldn’t at the moment. The girl started talking about the future and how she and her fellow graduates needed to make the most of it. She said the usual about learning from mistakes and whatever. Harry had heard it a thousand times before and his patience was wearing thin.

 

When the names started Harry perked up, then he realised just how _long_ it was going to take. The names were being called out in alphabetical order. Peter’s last name started with ‘P’. He was in for a relatively long wait. Harry had no idea why so many people had to have last names that started with ‘C’. They probably should have filtered this somehow.

 

“I can’t see him,” May muttered next to him.

 

“He’ll be one of those blue people down there,” he joked, smiling when it elicited a laugh from her.

 

“He better be here,” she added.

 

“He wouldn’t miss his own graduation,” Harry reassured.

 

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

 

The names continued to be called. Letter after letter, they made it through the alphabet. It was obvious to see who’d brought the most family members, when a loud cheer came from the crowd. It was the same with every person. Smile, walk onto the stage, shake the principal’s hand, shake the valedictorian’s hand, grab your diploma and walk off the stage again. Four years of hard work, more if you count the rest of your schooling, for that one piece of paper. At least the case they were kept in looked nice enough. They made it all the way through to M, then N, then O. By the time ‘P’ came around Harry thought he might have dropped dead from holding his breath for so long.

 

“Peter Parker!” the principal called.

 

“Oh thank God” May muttered next to him.

 

Peter came bounding onto the stage. He had a backpack on over his blue robe and his cap was a little crooked. It was the most Peter thing that Harry had seen in so long. His heart was instantly filled with such an immense amount of joy that he thought there might be a possibility of him fainting. He was smiling that goofy smile. That Peter Parker smile. Harry had never been happier than he was in that moment..

 

“That’s my boy” May whispered as Peter shook the principal’s hand.

 

“You bet he is,” Harry replied. His hand moved instantly over the band covering his wrist. That was _his_ Peter.  

 

Peter shook the valedictorian’s hand so fiercely that it looked like he was going to break her hand off. That was definitely the over excitement kicking in. Harry almost laughed at how predictable it was. Then Peter did something that he’d never expected, never even thought to expect. He pulled the blonde girl into a kiss. The rest of the graduates went wild. Harry felt every cell in his body freeze up. He turned cold as Peter dipped the girl in his arms before placing her upright again, her hands automatically moving to straighten her graduation cap. There was that Peter Parker smile, cheeky as ever.

 

Harry felt like he was dying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you all like painful angst because that's what this fic is at its heart. I'll see you next week!


	6. Never A Time Or Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, all I can say about this at this stage is buckle up, kids, it's time for a hell of a ride.
> 
> Chapter title quote:  
> “There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”   
> ― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

The names droned on and Harry had never felt so empty in his life. This must have been some kind of joke. Maybe he was trapped inside of a nightmare. That had to be it. Soon he’d wake up and he’d still be at boarding school and he’d be late for his flight, but at least then he wouldn’t have to see what he’d just seen. His hand was clasped so tightly around his wrist. His wrist that had Peter’s name on it. In Peter’s handwriting. Peter was  _ his  _ soulmate. Peter had been  _ his  _ soulmate since they were kids. Officially, since he was eleven. None of it made sense and Harry just wanted to disappear. 

 

If this was real, and fate was playing tricks on him, Harry decided that he must deserve it. Fate doesn’t play tricks like this. Everyone only has one soulmate. Maybe Harry was better off on his own anyway. He’d been on his own for seven years, and he’d survived it, mostly. Even if that had just been for Peter’s sake. Peter had looked so happy on the stage smiling at that girl. Harry felt sick just thinking about it, because he wanted Peter to be happy. He just wanted to be the one that Peter looked at like that. And he knew that was selfish, he just couldn’t help it.

 

***

 

“Where is he?” May asked, scanning the crowd of blue caps and gowns to try and find Peter. There were families hugging left, right and center and about a thousand different selfies being taken at that current moment, but she couldn’t seem to find her nephew. 

 

Harry wasn’t even sure he wanted to know anymore. All that he knew was that he felt sort of sick and almost wished he was back at boarding school instead. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Peter wouldn’t tell him who his soulmate was, because apparently it definitely wasn’t Harry, which meant the rules would still be in place. He guessed, it made sense then.

 

“May!” Peter came running up to them, his backpack fell off his shoulder in the process and he only just managed to catch it before it hit the ground. May was already pointing her camera in his direction and laughing. He bounded straight up to her and pulled her into a hug automatically. 

 

“I almost stole a cap and gown and went up there myself!” she said, not hesitating to hug him back. 

 

“I’d love to have seen that, it would have been pretty awesome,” Peter smirked, pulling away from her. 

 

“I’m so proud of you! Sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

 

Peter held his diploma up, covering his face from her constant photo taking. When he dropped it again his eyes locked onto Harry, noticing him for the first time. 

 

Harry’s entire being froze up as he waited for Peter’s reaction.

 

It didn’t take more than a second for that Peter Parker smile to grow about four sizes. “Harry?” he asked, his voice much quieter.

 

“I think it’s safe to say May’s not the only one that’s proud of you,” he replied.

 

Peter laughed and pulled him into a hug. Harry saw the blonde girl come up to May as he did so. 

 

“Oh, Gwen, sweetheart, your speech was lovely” May said.

 

Harry hugged Peter tighter, hoping to somehow convey just how much this moment meant to him. It had been a long seven years. 

 

Peter pulled away quicker than Harry wanted him too. “Am I taller than you now?” he asked. “I am! I’m taller than you! Aunt May, look, I’m taller than Harry!”. Peter turned, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulling him against his side playfully. 

 

“I know,” May smiled at the two of them. 

 

Gwen was looking at them curiously. Harry watched as Peter’s eyes slid to her. He pulled away from Harry again and went to her side. 

 

“Gwen, this is Harry,” he said.

 

“I figured,” she smirked. There was absolutely no hostility in her gaze, no jealousy. She must have trusted Peter whole-heatedly. 

 

“Harry, this is Gwen. My girlfriend.”

 

Even though he’d expected the words, they still hurt just as much. Gwen was wearing a black armband, Harry could see it when she pulled some of her hair back behind her ear and her sleeve slid down a notch. Her wrist must have said Peter Parker. At least Peter had found someone that deserved him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gwen” he replied, trying to push every ounce of what he was feeling to the side. He couldn’t let on how he really felt, it wouldn’t make sense at this stage. 

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gwen smiled up at him, nudging Peter’s side playfully with her elbow.

 

Peter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck absently. Classic Peter Parker embarrassed move. 

 

“I wish I could say the same.”

 

“I mean, I sort of told you,” Peter shrugged. 

 

“Sort of,” he agreed. 

 

“Well, look how that turned out,” Gwen teased him.

 

Peter looked at Gwen like she put the stars in the sky and that was all that Harry needed to close the lid on the little jar inside him that read ‘Peter Parker’. Maybe fate had different plans for him. He wondered why it had taken so long for them to tell him that. He guessed that he probably should have known. 

 

Harry was quite happy to head off after the graduation but May insisted that he should stay and the four of them went to get some food. Gwen was everything that Harry wasn’t and he knew that the more the day went on. Gwen was insanely smart. She’d been interning at Oscorp for a few years and had just found out that they had a job lined up for her after she graduated. Since Oscorp didn’t just hire  _ anyone,  _ Harry knew that she must have been one of the best they had. Working at Oscorp meant that she was into all the sciency stuff, like Peter was. Harry could never really get into that. She was so friendly and bubbly and approachable and funny and all the things that Harry wasn’t. The things that Peter deserved. It didn’t take Harry long to realise that Peter was much better off with Gwen than he would have ever been had Harry been his soulmate. Maybe fate had better plans then. It wasn’t something that he’d want to bother him. The only problem was that he still had Peter’s name on his wrist. He would always feel this way about Peter, he always had. This just made everything harder, at least for him.

 

***

 

“So, how are things? How are you feeling? Anything cool happen at boarding school that I missed?” Peter asked. Gwen and May were in front of the two of them, deep into a conversation about something or another and he hadn’t really spoken much to Harry. It was starting to grain on him so he’d slunk back. He just needed his best friend. 

 

Harry wanted so much to feel the joy that Peter was obviously feeling. This isn’t at all how he expected things to go and he wished that for once in his life that that wasn’t the case. “Things are fine. Boarding school was as boring as always. Even my graduation was boring,” he shrugged.

 

“So when did you decide to come to mine?” Peter smirked. 

  
“Well, May told me when it was and it just so happened to coincide with my schedule.”

 

“Ah, right. Your  _ schedule _ ,” he teased. “Glad you could fit me in then.”

 

“There’s always time for you, Pete.”

 

Peter laughed, then sobered fairly quickly. He nudged Harry gently with his elbow. “You’ve been quiet. Are you sure you’re ok?”

 

Harry looked over at him. He’d never had to  _ lie  _ to Peter before. He’d never had reason to. He didn’t even know if he could. Just the thought of lying to Peter felt absolutely horrible, but if there was one thing that boarding school had taught him it was how to bottle up his feelings and how to lie. “I mean, my dad’s kind of dying and I’ve sort of inherited his company. Guess I don’t quite know how to deal with all of that,” he shrugged.

 

He could tell by Peter’s eyes that he absolutely believed him. Somehow that made the lie worse. “Shit, you’re right. I’m sorry about your dad.”

 

“It’s alright, Pete. It’ll just take some time, I guess.”

 

“Well, if you ever need help at Oscorp, Gwen’s there. I think she pretty much knows that place better than anyone so she’d probably be happy to help.” And there was that Peter Parker smile again. Harry wanted the ground to open up below him and swallow him whole. 

 

“She makes you really happy, doesn’t she?” he asked, because why not pour salt into the wound. Surely the pain would help him forget what Peter meant to him. 

 

Peter’s smile grew a hundred sizes, he ran a hand through his hair and avoided looking at Harry. Classic Peter Parker shy move. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She does.”

 

At least he knew that Peter was happy. He could live with that. He could exist regardless of everything as long as he knew that Peter was happy. That’s all that had ever mattered to him. “I’m glad,” he said, trying to sound as genuine as possible. 

 

“Still haven’t found yours yet?” Peter asked, smirking and indicating Harry’s armband.

 

Harry thought about all the facades that he’d had to keep up over the years. It shouldn’t take much to put up one for Peter. He hated that this is what it’d come to. “Bit hard to find anyone when you’re locked away at boarding school for seven years,” he teased.

 

Peter laughed which meant he’d believed another lie. Harry wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep count of that at all. “You’ll probably have better luck here in New York,” he said.

 

“I hope so.”

 

“I mean, you hang out in Times Square enough. You’re bound to find someone there. There’s always so many people there,” he shrugged.

 

“I guess so. Maybe I should just start hanging out everywhere there’s a lot of people. Maybe I should just go to an airport day after day and hold a sign with their name on it until I meet them.”

 

“Is that even allowed? Because that would be telling people who your soulmate is without you having met them?” Peter asked.

 

It was such a genuine question. Harry thought about it for a moment. “You’re right. I guess that’s one plan out the window.”

 

“We’ll have to find another way then,” he teased.

 

“Maybe fate has plans for me to never meet my soulmate,” he shrugged.

 

Peter practically startled at that. Everyone  _ had  _ to meet their soulmate. The idea of Harry spending the rest of his life alone was somewhat painful. He didn’t want that for him. He wanted Harry to find his Gwen, his soulmate. Harry had already had a pretty shitty life up until this point, he didn’t deserve for that to continue. Not that there was anything Peter could do about that. Maybe just making Harry’s life better while he was here could help. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even find them at Oscorp,” he said.

 

“Maybe I’ll try and take your girlfriend away from you.”

 

Another laugh.

 

Harry had had a few too many instances where he’d felt like he wanted to die. He never thought that any of them would involve an interaction with Peter. Peter was usually his solace, his drive to keep going, but none of that really mattered now. Peter was incredibly happy and he obviously didn’t need Harry anymore, but Harry would always be drawn to him and he hated how hurtful that was going to be. If he was a bird, then Peter was a glass door that he kept slamming into, but it didn’t matter. He’d always come back anyway. Peter was all he had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always going to be sad about these two for various reasons so why not share that? 
> 
> I can't remember if I've dropped my Tumblr on this fic or not but I'm over at revolution-potter if you want to message me about this fic. God knows I don't talk about Peter Parker as much as that boy deserves.


	7. Find What You Love (and Let It Kill You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have to apologise again for being a literal trash baby who lives in a trash can under a rock and doesn't update on time. Uni's over for the semester now so with any luck that should improve over the next month or so. If it doesn't honestly just jump over to my blog and poke me with a stick and I'll work at this. I hope you guys like the new chapter anyway?  
> Chapter title quote:  
> “My dear,  
> Find what you love and let it kill you.  
> Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.  
> Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.  
> For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.  
> ~ Falsely yours”  
> ― Charles Bukowski

When Norman Osborn died a few days later Harry didn’t know what to feel. Mostly he was so numb that he couldn’t even find the headspace to care about it. He knew that he didn’t feel sad about it, and that he didn’t want to feel guilty for that. His father was a horrible person, he had years of proof to back that up. Under normal circumstances he probably would have talked to Peter about it, because Peter would reassure him about it all. Peter would make everything make sense, but he was trying to avoid interactions with Peter for his own sanity. Though, that didn’t seem to help anyway.

 

His mother left shortly after the funeral without so much as a goodbye and since Harry was expecting as much he still didn’t really react to it. Instead, he threw himself into Oscorp, his company. He knew how much everyone doubted him and was determined to prove them all wrong. If he had to be good at one thing in his life besides his usual facades (and lying), then he wanted it to be running Oscorp. It wasn’t that he cared about the company itself, it brought more than a few bad memories with it, but he needed to prove everyone wrong. Maybe he even needed to prove to himself that he could be good at something. Maybe he deserved that much.

 

Harry was in his first meeting when Peter decided to show up, which was probably just about the worst time that that could happen, because Harry couldn’t leave. Of course, he wanted to see Peter but this meeting was important. He needed to prove to everyone that he could do this, and the doubt in the room was already paramount. Leaving now would just solidify that in most of the beings in the room, so Harry told the assistant to dismiss Peter, tell him that he’d come by later. In the list of painful things he had to do lately, that was absolutely one of them.

 

The meeting took a good few hours and Harry almost hadn’t anticipated that. Oscorp was a mess at the moment. Considering Norman’s deteriorating state towards the end of the life, he’d lost the company before he realised it, so now Harry had to deal with a whole group of people that basically wanted to impeach him, since they saw the company as theirs now. They’d been calling the shots and now they were power hungry. Harry would have to get rid of them eventually but the timing of that would have to be so precise that it was starting to give him a headache. Getting this company back in order, removing all of the sketchy projects (which was most of them if he was being quite honest) and trying not to get killed somehow in the process would probably become the sole use of his time. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe if he kept himself busy he wouldn’t think about Peter, but truly that seemed to be his brain’s default whenever he had a spare moment.

 

***

 

“He’s still here, you know,” Felicia said to him as the two of them walked back to his office. Felicia was his assistant, as she’d been his father’s before him. She’d already made it quite clear that she preferred the change. He’d given her a raise as a result.

 

Harry looked up at her, confused. His brain was spinning through about a million different thoughts about the company and he had no idea who she was referring to. “Who?” he asked.

 

She smiled at him. A soft smile that was almost pitying. He hadn’t expected Felicia to be able to see right through him this easily. “Who do you think?”

 

He already knew the answer. “It’s been hours,” he muttered.

 

“Seems real eager to see you.”

 

Harry sighed and looked down at the folders in his hands. The folders of work that he had to make his way through, decisions that he had to make.

 

“I’ll take them,” she said. “You should go.”

 

“Felicia … thank you.”

 

She just smiled and took the folders out of his hands. “He’s down in the entryway,” she said, and then continued on her way.

 

Harry paused for a moment and took a deep breath. It was just Peter. He didn’t need to feel nervous about seeing Peter. But he did anyway.

 

***

 

“I guess a part of me can’t believe you’re still here.”

 

Peter looked up at the voice. He’d gotten so used to the silence in the last few hours that he’d almost forgotten what he was waiting for, or rather _who_ he was waiting for. “Hey, Harry.”

 

Harry wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to punch the Peter Parker smile off Peter’s face, or kiss it but he knew that there was far too much distance between them. He hated when there was distance between them. “Pete, it’s been hours,” he reminded.

 

Peter shrugged, his smile fell. “You were there for me, I wanted to be there for you,” he replied. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

 

Harry only had so much self control, and it wore incredibly thin when he was around Peter, so it didn’t take much for him to launch himself down the stairs and practically throw himself at him. He was sure that under any other circumstances, Peter would have laughed at that, but instead he just held Harry back just as tightly.

 

“It’s ok,” he muttered, voice much quieter now. “Harry, it’s ok.”

 

Harry couldn’t care less about his father. He couldn’t care less that his mother drained as much of the money as she could and fucked off. All he knew was that Peter was hugging him and he felt infinitely better and infinitely worse all at once. This was bad, this was really bad. He wasn’t supposed to indulge himself like this. Peter had a girlfriend now. Something clicked over in his brain and he found himself pulling away.

 

“Pete, I, uh, sorry,” he apologised, taking a step back from his best friend. “Sorry.”

 

“Har, it’s fine. It’s just me.”

 

It was almost laughable because _of course_ it was just Peter. It had always been _just_ Peter. Harry wanted to be sick.

 

Peter cleared his throat and took in his best friend. He’d never been all that good with words, and he was at a loss of what to say now. His mind of desperately trying to spin through something that would be helpful, but he kept getting distracted by just how guarded Harry looked. He’d never been guarded before. Not with him, at least.

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but I think you owe me a hotdog.”

 

Harry perked up at that. Peter wondered when he’d last eaten. Meetings probably didn’t allow that. Right?

 

“And, I think you owe me a game of Mario Kart.”

 

“There he is,” Peter beamed. “Considering there’s a hotdog cart on every corner we’re bound to find one if we start now.”

 

Harry threw a look behind him at the ominous doors to Oscorp. Technically, he still had work to do, and if anyone saw the newly appointed CEO ignoring that fact he wouldn’t be able to last long. Luckily, he’d always been good at enduring.

 

“I was thinking the waterfront,” Peter rambled on. “If I remember right that was always your favourite.”

 

“Hang on,” Harry interrupted. “I have to call Felicia.”

 

Peter smirked at that. “Ooh, who’s Felicia,” he teased.

 

“My assistant,” he rolled his eyes.

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Completely.”

 

Peter laughed and rocked back on his heels absently. “Meet you outside?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

 

The two of them looked at each other for a moment. Harry counted the seconds in his head until Peter burst into laughter. Well, he did make it all the way to six. He shoved at Peter’s shoulder playfully. “Go on,” he prompted.

 

“So handsy today,” Peter smirked, turning and heading to the door.

 

Harry pulled out his phone quickly. He already had Felicia’s number on speed dial in case of emergencies, which this absolutely counted as. “Let me start by saying I’ll give you another raise,” he as she picked up.

 

“Copy that. I’ll cover for you,” she replied.

 

“You’re the best, Felicia.”

 

“Just get me a latte on your way back and we’re even.”

 

“One sugar or two?”

 

“Two.”

 

“Copy that.”

 

***

 

The waterfront was just as Harry remembered it. There’d been some new development in the last seven years, new skyscrapers lining the horizon, but other than that it was just the same. The hot dogs were still as good, so at least there was that. Peter was talking about Gwen, 1000 watt smile on his face and such a brightness to him that a part of Harry still wanted to be sick. But at least he was happy. In the end, that was all he could really ask for.

 

“So this,” Peter was saying, indicating the armband on his wrist, “Happened when we were in junior high. I didn’t even know who she was then. We weren’t in any of the same classes until high school. She didn’t get hers until then either. I had to wait it out. I guess you’d know a lot about that though,” he teased, nudging Harry’s shoulder gently.

“I guess so,” he replied, staring pointedly at the ground.

 

“But yeah, when I found out who she was - I mean, it was amazing. Waiting was hard, really, but I think it was worth it. We sort of just … found our way to each other, and here we are.”

 

“She makes you happy, Pete. I’m happy for you. Really,” Harry shrugged. He wasn’t sure if he minded hearing the tale of Peter and Gwen, since Peter seemed to be bursting with it. He didn’t hate Gwen, in fact, he couldn’t find a single thing to dislike about her and the more he heard about her the more than rang true. It was like his own personal hell.

 

Peter seemed to startle at that. He looked over at Harry and his eyes-widened, seemingly realising something. “I’m rambling, aren’t i?” he muttered. “I’ll stop talking about Gwen now. I will. I, um -”

 

Harry shook his head, smirking. “It’s fine, Peter,” he said.

 

“No, no. I want to hear more about you.”

 

Harry wasn’t sure when they’d stopped walking but Peter’s hand was resting on his shoulder and he never wanted to move. “You already know everything about me.”

 

“There’s gotta be something interesting that you haven’t told me. I mean, you were in Europe for seven years! What was that _like_? Did you see any of it? Like touristy stuff?”

 

Yeah, he’d seen Europe. He’d seen the Eiffel Tower light up as the sky darkened as he aimlessly wandered the streets on the way back from the Louvre, distant sounds of some violins floating down from the peak because of _course_ someone was probably proposing up there. He’d watched the sunlight bounce off the white buildings on Greek islands and the light sand that was lined every which way with people. He’d walked the cobbled streets of Venice and watched as couples cruised by in gondolas. He’d even made it all the way to the Colosseum at one point, might even have a photo of that somewhere. He’d admired the street art lining the buildings of Berlin, marveled at what was left of the Berlin Wall. He’d every single one of the 20,000 tiles inside the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. He’d been to Germany, Amsterdam, to the Swiss Alps, and every single second he’d wished that Peter was there with him. None of that mattered now.

 

“New York is better,” he said.

 

Peter laughed at that. “Better than the whole of Europe? I actually find that a little hard to believe.”

  
Harry looked over at him, deciding momentarily to throw all caution to the wind. “You’re here, Peter,” he replied. “That’s why it’s better.”

 

Peter seemed to look equal parts surprised, touched and a little sad, but he smiled anyway and bumped Harry’s shoulder with his as a gesture of fondness. “I missed you too.”

 

Harry just hoped that Gwen knew how lucky she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm a little torn because I feel like this is just a filler chapter but I'm building up to more stuff happening so maybe this needs a filler chapter? I sort of know exactly where this fic is going though, just gotta get there.  
> Alas, I'll be back as soon as my writing allows me to be. Until then, I'll love you and leave you <3


	8. Love Is A Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while and I'm sorry for that. I started hyper fixating on something else, and thus another ship, and these two lovely boys got pushed to the side for a bit but here's the new chapter!   
> Chapter title quote:  
> “Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.”   
> ― Joan Crawford

Felicia was the first to notice it, because of course she was. She was the first to notice everything, and at this stage she was the first and last person that Harry saw everyday. Sometimes, she was the only person, and he didn’t mind it that way. The only thing that Norman had left him that was any use was a large collection of various crystal bottles, mostly scotch and whisky, that Harry was slowly making his way through. The alcohol helped numb his thoughts of Peter enough that he could actually focus on his work. Running Oscorp wasn’t the easiest thing in the world and at least drinking helped with that the slightest bit. He could ignore that it seemed to make everything else worse because at least his workload was steady. At least he could go to meetings and plan with investors and have the false courage to cut funding from all the gross programs that were worming their way through the undercurrents of Oscorp. At least he had that. 

 

What he didn’t have anymore was a healthy lifestyle. The drinking seemed to be the start of that. Harry drank but he didn’t eat much. He didn’t really sleep much either, and he tried to avoid leaving Oscorp if he could help it. His apartment was too empty and at least in his office there were things he could occupy himself with. Occupy his brain with. He didn’t notice the shaking at first. Harry must have just shrugged it off as a side effect of the drinking but it became more constant. It wasn’t something that he wanted to focus on so he tried to push that to the side. He didn’t even realise when Felicia started appearing more, his days all blurred together now anyway. She came to check on him more frequently. Often walking into his office with some folder in her hand, halfway through saying something about investors or projects or something that he wasn’t quite paying attention to. Then she’d say something about the drinking and leave again. He wasn’t exactly sure when he’d stopped hearing her, but she seemed to be the only constant in his life at the moment. At least there was some reassurance in that.

 

He’d learned that turning his phone off helped a lot. That way he could avoid any and all messages from Peter. If anyone important needed to reach him, they usually did so through Oscorp so he didn’t have a need to have his phone on anymore. He was a little sure that at least three different articles had ran at some point stating that he was dead, since he didn’t update his Twitter anymore and avoided every single form of social media there was. Felicia often made some kind of statement that he wasn’t dead, that he was just caught up in his work which was why he wasn’t seen as often. That he’d thrown himself into his company and was doing an amazing job running it. As he should be. Harry wasn’t sure if any of that was true but he thought that if everyone thought he was dead maybe that would make things easier. 

 

***

 

“Well, I’m not sure how you managed it but the client seems more than happy with the way things are playing out,” Felicia was saying as she made her way into Harry’s office. 

 

Harry was off to the side, pouring himself another drink. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at that. “I have my ways,” he shrugged. “People think I’m charming, remember.”

 

“You really need to stop with that,” she replied, for what felt like the billionth time. “It’s not helping your condition you know.”

 

Harry shrugged at that. “My health has never been my priority,” he replied, downing the glass and pouring another. 

 

Felicia sighed. She crossed the room to him, placing the folder in her hands on the table in front of him and taking the glass forcibly from his hands, ignoring his protests. She grabbed onto his hands and held them in front of him, noting how unsteady they were. “See this?” she said, indicating his shaking hands. “Your drinking is making  _ this  _ worse. It’s escalating far more quickly than it should.”

 

“You know, I really thought coming on to me was beneath you.”

 

And that’s when Felicia realised that Harry had no idea what he was getting himself into. He probably had no idea what killed his father and how the disease, being hereditary, was passed onto him. She stared at him hard, willing him to notice how serious she was, that there was more to this, but he didn’t seem to want to listen. She dropped his hands. 

 

Harry went to grab his glass again.

 

“You’re destroying yourself,” she said.

 

“I’ll drink to that,” he smirked, downing the glass. 

 

It was incredibly unfortunate that Felicia never seemed to forget just how  _ exasperating  _ he could be. Time for Plan B. “Is this because of Peter?” she asked. 

 

Harry froze. 

 

_ There _ , she thought. 

 

Harry avoided her eyes, focusing on the glass instead but not drinking from it. “What about Peter?” he asked.

 

“You know he wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself,” she replied.

 

“Peter doesn’t want a lot of things and I just happen to be one of them,” he shrugged, placing the glass back down on the table because he sure he was about to drop it.

 

“Is that what you’re trying to convince yourself?”

 

There was a pause where neither of them said anything. Harry avoided her eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. Felicia just sighed at that.

 

“Harry, do you know how your father died?” she asked him.

 

He had no idea what to say to that. It wasn’t something that they’d ever really spoken about. It wasn’t really something  _ anyone  _ spoke to him about. All he really knew was that his father died and he got the company. “Does it matter?”

 

Felicia nodded. Harry could sense how reluctant she was to talk to him about this, there was an imminent sense of dread sneaking up on them both. “Ok, we need to talk about it,” she muttered. “I think you’re going to need to sit down.”

 

Harry had never really been more puzzled in his life. Felicia was usually a pretty serious person, so he was used to that but this was different. This felt different. All he knew was that there was something very wrong and she hadn’t realised that she’d been keeping it from him. He nodded and the two them moved to the couch on the other side of the room. 

 

Felicia sighed, not looking at him but at her lap and twisting her hands together. Harry realised that he’d never seen her  _ nervous  _ before. “Your father had a disease,” she started. 

 

“That would explain why everyone thought he was incapable for months then,” he shrugged.

 

Felicia nodded. “It’s a very specific disease that there isn’t a cure for, since it hasn’t really existed. At least, it’s exists but it’s not widespread enough to be on anyone’s radar which I think means that it doesn’t warrant a cure.”

 

“Felicia, what are you telling me?”

 

She looked over at him, not sure how to phrase her next words. He looked more worried than she’d ever seen him and she could tell he knew how serious this was. Felicia was sure that Harry already knew what she was going to say. She took a deep breath. “This disease is hereditary,” she said. Harry seemed to freeze at the words and the room felt very still. “Your drinking is escalating it.”

 

“I’m dying,” he muttered. It wasn’t a question, more a realisation, because somehow that made sense to him. Somehow he’d known without really knowing. “Felicia,” he said, looking up at her, “please don’t tell Peter.”

 

“Harry -”

 

“I don’t want him to know.”

 

Felicia nodded. “Just please talk to him, or something. It doesn’t have to be about this.”

 

“Yeah, I will.”

 

She stood up, knowing that she needed to get back to work. There were about a thousand different folders stacked up on her desk that were demanding her attention. Felicia placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder for the briefest second, hoping that it would somehow be of some comfort. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

 

“We can fix this,” she replied. “There’ll be a way.”

 

He just nodded and waited until she left the room. Everything felt silent, too silent and he was almost afraid to move. He wasn’t sure how he felt but he didn’t want this to be his reality, even if it made perfect sense. Harry had no idea how he was going to keep this from Peter. 

 

***

 

“No, Gwen, Oxford would be so amazing. You need to go for it. You need to apply and keep applying and apply so many times that they can’t ignore you!” Peter was saying. He was holding an ice cream in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. He was sure that the sound of Gwen laughing was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. 

 

“You can’t apply more than once, Peter. If you do that then they’ll ignore your application,” she explained, smiling fondly at her idiot boyfriend.

 

“What? But doesn’t that just show how dedicated you are? That you really want to go and study there?”

 

“The real world doesn’t work that way,” she teased. 

 

“Then I don’t know if I want to live in the real world!”

 

Gwen looked over at him, smirking. “Would you rather live in the spider world then?”

 

“Shhhh, someone might hear you.”

 

“And do what?”

 

“I don’t know! Something?”

 

“Peter,” she smiled. Just the tone of her voice was enough to make him laugh.

 

“Ok, you’re right,” he said. 

 

“My three favourite words,” she teased. 

 

He rolled his eyes at that, smirking. Somehow Gwen always knew how to cheer him up. He wondered briefly it that was a soulmate thing or just a Gwen thing. 

 

“How’s Harry?” she asked.

 

Peter paused. The people behind him almost walked into him and cursed as they dodged the two of them. Gwen pulled him off to edge of the sidewalk instead. 

 

“He hasn’t spoken to you?”

 

He shook his head. “His phone’s always off. I get his - his stupid voice mail message: ‘ _ You’ve reached Harry Osborn. I’m too busy running a company to talk to you right now so you might want to try another method of contacting me’ _ ,” he mocked. “I hate it.”

 

“Have you listened to it?”

 

Peter looked at her like she’d gone crazy and Gwen knew that meant he had no idea what she was talking about. 

 

“Have you tried ‘another method’ of contacting him?” she pressed.

 

Peter’s brows pulled together while his brain tried to process what she was asking him. He looked down at his almost forgotten ice cream as if it would have the answers. “I’ve called Oscorp too. He’s not taking my calls,” he replied.

 

“So instead of trying another method you just called a different phone? Peter, you can do better than that,” she laughed. 

 

“Wait, I know what you’re thinking,” he mused, staring over at her for long enough that it made her laugh again. “Letters!” he exclaimed. “You think I should write him another letter!”

 

“It’s another form of communication,” she smirked. “And I don’t think he’ll want to ignore it.”

 

“Gwen,” he beamed at her, pulled her closer to him so he could kiss her forehead. “You’re a genius.”

 

***

 

Felicia couldn’t help but smile when the letter showed up. She knew immediately who it was from, even without a return address plastered on the back. Harry didn’t receive many letters at all. Most correspondences were through Oscorp, and that was all done either via email, a phone call or a meeting. The letters he received were often a mix of automated messages from various companies or bills. None of them were ever handwritten so when she came across one that was she knew immediately that she had to bring it to him straight away. She just hoped that he would respond to it. 

 

Harry was at his desk when she entered, scrolling through project after project and making notes as to which were necessary or skeptical, and especially on the ones he needed to keep an eye on. 

 

“A letter came for you,” she said.

 

He barely looked up at her as he responded, “Let me guess, our electricity bill is double what it was last month.”

 

“No, I think it’s a little more pleasant than that,” she smiled, dropping the letter in front of him.

 

Harry looked down at the handwriting that was so very familiar to him. He should have someone expected this, but it wasn’t something that had crossed his mind. Harry wasn’t sure if his hands were shaking because of his apparent disease or for another reason as he picked up the letter. He flipped it carefully, expecting to see Peter’s address written on the back (even though he’d never need it) but there was just a small message instead:

 

_ Your voice mail said to find another way to contact you. So I did. _

 

“Nerd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time!


	9. An Untamed Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start by saying something I want to do this year is work on the fics I've left abandoned on this site. I think I might start with this one because I've been thinking about it a lot recently and you guys seem to enjoy it. So here's the next chapter so you can all get a feel for where everyone's at and I can get back into the swing of things.   
> The chapter title is from this quote:  
> “Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused.”   
> ― Paulo Coelho

Surely the coldest part of winter should have passed. Harry wasn’t usually one to keep track of time, whether it be days, months or seasons, but he was sure that it had to be spring by now. If it was then why was the wind biting at him so harshly as he made his way down the street? This street that was still somehow familiar to him, regardless of how long it had been since he’d spent more than a few minutes here. Maybe it was a just a particularly cold day all of a sudden. That would be just his luck. He crossed the road without checking for cars and thought for a moment that he wouldn’t really care if one hit him anyway. There was probably something he could do about that, since he was sure that the casualness of that thought should be concerning, but he didn’t really have the headspace at the moment to care about it. 

 

When he paused in front of the Parker’s front door there was a moment when he did genuinely consider just turning around and going right back to Oscorp. He should be there anyway. He had so much work to do, but Felicia had insisted that he needed to talk to Peter, and soon. Of course it was the thought of Peter that motivated him enough to ring the doorbell. 

 

“Peter can you get the door!?” he heard May call. 

 

Harry took a deep breath and prepared to deal with the fact that his heart would try to jump out of his chest and towards Peter the second the door opened. He really hoped that he could control that. 

 

Peter pulled the door open, expecting to see a delivery person of some sort but instead he found Harry standing outside. Harry curled up in his coat and scarf and looking like he was freezing to death. Harry who couldn’t even seem to look him in the eye. Peter wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he knew it had to be something. His best friend couldn’t have been avoiding him for no reason. He wouldn’t do that. Before Peter could think of something to say, Harry started talking. 

 

“I’ve been an asshole and I’m so sorry, Peter. I shut you out and whether that was intentional or not I’m not really sure but I shouldn’t have done that and I’m -”

 

He was cut off by Peter hugging him, and suddenly he could breathe again along with the feeling of happy-pain that he associated with Peter at the moment. God it was just good to be near him again. 

 

Peter laughed and then pulled away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugging. “So are you going to come in or are you just going to stand here in the cold?” he teased.

 

_ I’d stand out here all day for you _ . “Depends if you feel like being annihilated in Mario Kart or not.”

 

He raised his eyebrows, smile turning into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

 

Harry didn’t reply and for a moment the two of them just looked at each other. Then Peter laughed again and tugged on Harry’s coat, successfully pulling him into the house. “May! Harry’s here!” he called as he let go and closed the door behind them. 

 

Harry’s mind was racing through thoughts that could be summed up with the phrases ‘ _ no don’t let go _ ’ and  _ ‘this is what home feels like _ ’ and he missed whatever May’s response was but when she appeared from down the hall he accepted her immediate hug. 

 

“It’s good to see you, Harry. We can’t have you locked up in that tower all the time, can we?” she said. 

 

He nodded, forcing himself to register the sentence and respond accordingly. He could see Peter smiling out of the corner of his eye and was desperately trying not to get distracted by it.  _ This is why you’ve been avoiding him _ , he thought.  _ Fucking control yourself _ .

 

“Getting everything back into order is time consuming but we’re definitely making progress,” he said to May.

 

“I can imagine. I never really trusted that place.”

 

“That’s definitely something we’re working on.”

 

Peter muttered something about wanting to hurry the conversation up which made May roll her eyes at him and disappear again after reminding them to have fun. Before Harry knew it Peter’s bedroom door was falling closed behind him and they were alone. He stayed near the door, unsure what to do or say in this situation but Peter didn’t seem able to stop moving. He turned his TV on, setting up Mario Kart without so much as breathing before sitting down on his bed and holding a controller out to Harry. 

 

Harry wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted this to feel normal, like when they were kids but there seemed to be something gigantic hanging over them that neither of them were addressing. “Shouldn’t you be angry at me, or something?”

 

Peter just shrugged. “Why would I be angry at you?”

 

Something seemed off and Harry had no idea what it was. He swallowed and sat down with far more distance between the two of them than there usually would be, accepting the controller from Peter. 

 

“I’ll guess I’ll be Mario today,” he said.

 

Harry didn’t say anything, he looked at the characters lined up characters and realised that he didn’t really feel like playing this at all. He wanted to know what was wrong with Peter. He wanted to know why he wasn’t angry and yelling at him or  _ something _ . He selected Toad and continued. 

 

“Up for a challenge?” Peter asked.

 

Harry shrugged.

 

“Rainbow road it is.”

 

They managed the entity of the first lap without so much as saying a word to each other and the silence was starting to grain on Harry. He had no idea what to say, or what he could do to make this better so he just forced his eyes to stay on the screen and not wander to Peter at any point. 

 

“You can take that off you know,” Peter muttered.

 

“What?”

 

“Your scarf. You’re inside. You can’t be that cold now,” he explained. 

 

Harry jolted, accidentally running into a banana and not even having the energy to curse because of it. He couldn’t lie to Peter, not this time, but he definitely couldn’t tell him the truth either. “It’s, uh, hiding something,” he managed. 

 

“Ah, so you did find your soulmate then,” Peter smirked. 

 

“What? No.”

 

“Really? Because finding your soulmate would probably be the only good reason for you to be avoiding me for this long.”

 

_ There it is.  _ “So you are angry.”

 

“Angry? No, why would I be angry. It’s not like my best friend stopped talking to me for a month or anything.”

 

“Peter-”

 

“So what’s under the scarf then?” he asked. 

 

Harry hesitated, and he knew that that would only make Peter angrier, but he had no idea what to say. He probably should have thought this through, come up with excuses to give him. “I can’t tell you,” he said.

 

Peter slammed down on his accelerator so hard that for a moment Harry wondered if he was going to break the controller. “Oh? You can’t tell me? So that’s what it’s like then? You can’t tell me. That’s great, Harry. It’s nice to see that you’re keeping things from me. What’s next? You’ll lie to me about something?”

 

He wasn’t sure if the pain in his chest was something that he should be thankful for. It was almost familiar. He’d become to used to pain over the last seven years. “Don’t.”

 

“Don’t? So you have lied to me.” Peter paused the game, throwing the controller down on his bed and shifting so that he could look at Harry. “Go on. Har. Tell me. How many times have you lied to me?”

 

“Peter, stop it.”

 

“No, I want to hear it. Over the last month. No, you know what? Over the last seven years. How many times have you lied to me?”

 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and willed it all to go away. Everything was so much easier at boarding school. He hadn’t been grateful for it then, but truly he’d been blind to how horrible things could become.

 

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, Harry.”

 

“You are my best friend.”

 

“Then why haven’t you been  _ talking  _ to me!”

 

Harry looked over at Peter, locking eyes with him. “Some things can’t be talked about,” he said, hoping that Peter hadn’t grown out of his obliviousness and that he would miss the deeper meaning to the words. Judging by the confusion on his face, he hadn’t. “I should go.”

 

When Peter didn’t say anything, Harry got up and left and he couldn’t find the words to stop him. He flopped down on the mattress and groaned into it. That wasn’t how he wanted things to go. He could tell that something was wrong with Harry because of  _ course  _ something was wrong. He was sure that Harry had no reason to be avoiding him otherwise. It was clear that he still thought of them as being best friends, but what had changed?

 

***

 

Harry somehow found the sense to not slam the Parker’s front door behind him. Of course, that would alert May and he didn’t want that at all. Having her worry about him, as bittersweet as it was, had never been his intention. The wind bit at him again and he cursed and he struggled to pull his phone out of his pocket, already knowing who he would call. “Felicia,” he said as soon as she picked up.

 

“How’d it go?” she asked.

 

“I think I might pick up smoking,” he replied, not looking while crossing the street again. He wasn’t thinking, just walking, knowing that he’d end up somewhere he’d rather be anyway. 

 

She sighed and Harry could practically see her rolling her eyes at him while at her desk. “You can’t afford any more bad habits.”

 

“Exactly. It’ll make me die quicker,” he explained. Since he could afford it as well as the drinking it seemed to be a good enough plan. Sure, Felicia was trying her best to get him off it and actually be a healthy person but he doubted that she’d be able to succeed. 

 

“Harry,” she warned, her tone similar to someone chastising a small child. He couldn’t imagine how much he must have annoyed her. He’d have to write her some kind of killer recommendation for after he died. Maybe he’d leave her the company in his will. That seemed like the right thing to do. 

 

“I don’t have anything left here, Felicia.” There’d only been Peter, and now there wasn’t. So he truly had nothing.

 

“Come back to Oscorp,” she said, without so much as a pause for thought. 

 

He shook his head, knowing that somehow she would get that from her end. “I can’t right now.”

 

“Well, at least get to somewhere where you won’t do anything stupid.”

 

“No promises.”

 

***

 

It could probably be attributed to the cold wind, considering it was even stronger coming off the water, but there were definitely far less people in the area. There were a few scattered groups of tourists, probably those who didn’t have that much time in New York, trying to see as much of the city as they could, but other than that it was pretty empty. Harry wasn’t one for silence, it often bothered him or reminded him of boarding school or living with his parents, but in this instance he found himself grateful for it. He was able to just stare at the water and not really focus on anything, not really think at all. Really his thoughts weren’t the greatest place to be at the moment, so avoiding them was the best thing he could do. Time existed in a void that he wasn’t apart of and he had no idea how long it had been since he’d left Peter’s house but when the sky started to change colour, morphing into oranges instead of blues, he did consider leaving. As someone he in no way expected to see stopped next to him, leaning against the railing, her blonde hair catching the light as well as the wind, Harry found himself rooted to the ground.

 

“I genuinely hope that the sunsets at Oxford are as nice as this,” Gwen said, as if this was the most casual exchange in the world. “Otherwise I might have to come right back.”

 

Harry had no idea what to say. He didn’t even know why she was here, let alone why she would talk to him at all. She had no reason to. They weren’t friends. Their only connection had been Peter and really that was severed, at least for the moment. 

 

“I know this might be weird for you,” she continued, “but Peter mentioned that you liked the waterfront once so I thought I might find you here.”

 

“Not sure why you would want to,” he muttered. Truly, this made no sense to him. Why was she being so nice? She didn’t have to seek him out and check on him. They had absolutely no obligation to each other. 

 

“I would lie and tell you that Felicia asked me to follow you or something but I’m not one to lie really,” she shrugged. She shifted, continued to lean against the railing but instead facing him. 

 

“That’s a good trait in an employee.”

 

“I guess this is more than strange if you just think of me like that.” A gust of wind blew passed them and Gwen had to push her hair out of face. Harry took that moment to at least give her the courtesy of facing her as well, since she seemed to want to stay.

 

“Gwen, whatever you came here to say it doesn’t need saying.”

 

She shook her head, hand still struggling to control her hair. “No, I think it does because I’ve doubt you’ve heard it before.”

 

That seemed to stump him. Whatever reason he’d thought she’d come here (to check on him, to gloat, to say  _ something _ on the behalf of Peter) seemed irrelevant now.

 

She smiled as if she somehow knew what he was thinking and Harry wondered why she could see through him so easily. It was something she and Felicia had in common. “When you were in Europe, I was here with Peter and I’m going to talk to you about that. Well, talk at you, I suppose. Either way I hope you listen.”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about -”

 

“You do,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “And it’s something that needs to be said.”

 

Harry didn’t reply. He looked back out at the water for a moment, at the setting sun dipping towards the horizon and then focused on Gwen. She didn’t have to talk to him and yet she’d taken the time of the day to do so, about something that she found important. The least he could do was give her the respect she deserved. He nodded and she smiled again. For a moment, Harry realised just how much there was for Peter to see in her.

 

“I don’t think you realise just how important you are to him” she started. “He talked about you all the time, Harry. Every letter he got, every text message, every phone call. He lived for them. I’ve never seen him smile as much as he did whenever he heard from you.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, unable to look at her and her earnesty. 

 

“Because you need to hear it. You’ve been avoiding him.”

 

“I saw him today.”

 

“And you fought. You’ve never fought before.”

 

“That didn’t seem to matter to him.”

 

“Stop it,” she said, with far more authority than he expected her to hold. “You’re someone who gets so caught up in their head that you lose sight of things. Peter’s upset. Harry, you’ve been avoiding him and he had no idea why. He blames himself, you know.”

 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and wished that he could ignore the words. Of course Peter would blame himself. It’s in his nature. “Nothing’s ever his fault.”

 

“I know that, but he’s like you. He loses sight of things too.”

 

He looked up at her and wondered when this girl that meant nothing to him a few months ago became such a voice of reason. “What do you want from me, Gwen?” he asked.

 

“Harry, whatever it is you’re hiding from him, whether you think you need to or not -” she paused, sighing. “Just think about telling him. He can take a lot more than you think he can.”

 

Harry blinked, because there was a such a weight to her words. Gwen must have been far more perceptive than he ever thought. “I’m dying,” he said, because it didn’t really matter what he told her since she seemed to already know.

 

Gwen nodded. “Your father’s condition is hereditary.”

 

He knew she shouldn’t be surprised by how smart she was. She was a genius, and everyone at Oscorp knew that. “Gwen -”

 

“He’s already lost you once,” she interrupted, a hand falling against his shoulder. “Don’t let him lose you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make any promises for when I'll finish the next chapter but hopefully it'll be soon. Until then you can come and hassle me on my Tumblr (potter-awakening) or leave me a comment here. Thanks for sticking with this <3


	10. You Have To Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey. Here's the new chapter! I threw this together in the last few hours but I'm happy enough with it so I hope you guys like it!
> 
> The chapter title is taken from this quote:  
> “Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up.”   
> ― Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum

It had been a few days and Harry hadn’t heard from Peter at all. Surely he should have been used to that by now. He shouldn’t have been checking his phone compulsively or asking Felicia if they’d received any letters at least twice a day (much to her amusement). He knew that he’d been the one aiming for this, the one trying to cut Peter off, but his heart still jumped every time his phone vibrated and for the millisecond before he realised it was just another Twitter notification he just hoped that it would be him. It never was. 

 

Harry was staring down at his desk, at the screen that he knew he was supposed to be reading. He’d clicked on this with a purpose, a reason. It was something important, but his memory had been failing him more and more lately. He’d started zoning out fairly regularly, losing his train of thought or pausing in whatever it was he was doing. Truly he was just grateful that it hadn’t happened in a meeting yet, but deep down he knew it was only a matter of time. When his door burst open at about 11 in the morning he thought it would be Felicia coming to check on him like she always did, but when he looked up, he saw Peter instead. And his stupid heart started racing just at the sight of him. Peter was talking, hands wildly moving around trying to convey his point and Harry knew that he needed to zone right back in to hear whatever it was that he was saying. He stood up, leaning (more heavily than he’d like to admit) against his desk and forcing himself to focus, but he only seemed to catch the end of whatever Peter was saying.

 

“ … and I’m a hypocrite,” was what he heard.

 

Harry stared at Peter for a long moment, trying to figure out what the hell the context of that sentence would be. He couldn’t think of anything. “Peter … what?”

 

Peter surged forward, crossing the room easily and planting himself just out of arm’s reach. Just far enough for Harry to keep his sanity, because he was starting to realise the more he looked at Peter, the more he never wanted to look at anything else. He knew those thoughts were dangerous. Peter pulled at his hair, anchoring himself to line up the words of whatever his next sentence was, and Harry spared a thought for just how  _ good  _ he looked, a part of him desperate to tell Peter that. A part of him that he was constantly trying to crush down. 

 

“I’m a hypocrite,” Peter started again, words slower as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. “I was angry at you for keeping something from me and that’s not fair because I’ve been keeping something from you too.”

 

Harry had no idea where he was going with this. All he really knew was that Peter was  _ just  _ too far away from him from his liking. “You’ve been keeping something from me?”

 

Peter looked concerned, as if he was worried that Harry would be angry at him or something. “Yes,” he answered.

 

He just nodded. Whatever Peter had been keeping really wasn’t his fault. Firstly, it was probably something very personal that he didn’t feel like sharing or wasn’t ready to share or whatever. Secondly, Harry had been trying to push him away so truly he shouldn’t have to feel like he needed to tell Harry anything.

 

A silence fell over them. Peter picked at a loose strand on his jacket for a moment before he started to look around the room. Harry had no idea what he could have possibly been looking for but when Peter’s eyes lit up (and god if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever see) he knew that he found it. 

 

“Would you like a drink?” Peter asked, sounding strangely formal, a little excited and a tad nervous all at once.

 

Harry shrugged. “Felicia’s trying to get me off it,” he said, because she was and she had been for what had to be months now. How long had he been back in New York again?

 

“But you like whisky right?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Peter where are you going with this?”

 

Peter shook his head, smiling something wicked and Harry had no idea what was happening but that was a look that could make him do anything. Peter looked down at his wrist for a moment, as if contemplating it, then he flicked it sideways in a careful, calculated movement. In less than a second he was holding a whisky bottle that Harry  _ knew  _ had been on the other side of the room without moving and he truly had no idea what the hell he’d just seen. Peter held the bottle out to him, his smile a lot more nervous this time. 

 

Harry looked between the bottle, Peter and the cabinet on the side of the room where he knew that the bottle had come from. He took the bottle and stared down at it. “Peter what the -”

 

“You know that guy in the blue and red suit that kinda flies around town and saves kittens from fires and stuff? That’s me. I’m Spider-Man.”

 

He stared at Peter for a long hard moment without saying anything. He could almost laugh at just how ridiculous this all was. Peter had seemed so worried initially, as if this was something to be worried about, but really this secret was so … innocent, so  _ Peter  _ that Harry had no doubt of it being true. Even if a whisky bottle hadn’t just moved across the room. It made sense, Peter being Spider-Man. Spider-Man was a beacon of hope, and that’s what Peter had always been to Harry. “Of course, it’s you,” he found himself saying. 

 

He could tell that Peter wasn’t expecting that reaction. He probably didn’t know what to expect but whatever it had been it wasn’t that. His smile grew about three sizes. “Ok, you know my secret now I wanna know yours.”

 

Harry felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Peter was still smiling at him and he knew that within the next ten minutes that wouldn’t be the case. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell Peter. He thought that maybe that was the whole reason he’d been keeping it from him in the first place. “Peter, I need you to sit down.”

 

Peter’s eyes clouded over with worry and his smile dropped from his face immediately. He could tell how serious this was. He nodded and the two of them made their way over to the couch on one side of the office. 

 

Harry couldn’t remember telling Peter that he  _ needed  _ him to do something (regardless of how often he’d thought it, especially back at boarding school). He couldn’t look at him, instead staring down at his lap. A long moment passed. 

 

“Har, please talk to me.”

 

It was a nickname that Peter used to rarely that it sent a jolt up Harry’s spine. He looked up at him, saw the most concerned Peter Parker that he had ever seen in his life, and felt himself crumble. “Peter, I’m dying,” he said.

 

It took less than a second of hearing those words for Peter’s expression to change to one of panic. He shifted, taking Harry’s incredibly shaky hands into his own. “What do you mean you’re dying?” he asked.

 

Harry wished that he had the words to make this easier. He wished that he didn’t have to tell this to Peter at all, but he couldn’t physically keep this from him any longer. “My father,” he started, unable to stop the rage from seeping into his voice. Not only had the man forced him to lose Peter once, but he’d doomed him to lose him again. “My father had this condition, the condition that he died from. It’s, uh, it’s hereditary.” 

 

Peter wasn’t an angry person, he never really had been, he was far too kind for that, but when Harry looked up at him again he noticed immediately the pure fury in his eyes. Peter squeezed his hands, that he was still holding (Harry thought that maybe it was the only thing keeping him grounded at this point) and then let go. Instead he moved forward, wrapping his arms around Harry and pulling him into a hug. 

 

Harry hadn’t been expecting it at all and everything happened so quickly that he barely had time to breathe. Peter buried his head against his neck and Harry found the strength to hug him back. He’d hugged Peter before, not so much since he’d been back in New York but they’d hugged a lot as kids. If he was being quite honest, he spent most of his time at boarding school thinking of hugging Peter, but this felt different. This was painful and Harry couldn’t figure out why.

 

“I’m not losing you again,” Peter muttered, voice muffled by Harry’s shoulder.

 

Ah, that was why. 

 

He pulled away, and Harry could practically see the cogs turning in his brain as he tried to think of something to say. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is all my fault.”

 

Harry was half tempered to grab him by the shoulders and shake him because  _ Peter Benjamin Parker nothing in the entire universe has ever been your fault _ . But he stopped himself and let Peter continue.

 

“I don’t know what I did but I somehow made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that and you’ve been … you’ve been hiding it this whole time and Harry, god, I’m so sorry.”

 

Harry would never forgive himself for this, for making Peter feel the way he did right now. There were tears starting to pool in Peter’s eyes and Harry knew he’d be haunted by this moment forever. He did the only thing he could think of doing, he pulled Peter into another hug. 

 

Not even five seconds later Harry heard the door to his office crack open, the sound of Felicia’s heels clacked against the floor and then stopped. He knew that she’d seen them. He found himself pulling away first.

 

“Sorry,” she apologised, her eyes as sad as he’d ever seen them. 

 

“Don’t be,” he replied, out of the corner of his eyes he could see Peter desperately wiping away the few tears that had managed to spill over. He felt empty. “It’s that meeting isn’t it?” he said, because he did remember when Felicia told him things. Sometimes at least.

 

She nodded, her eyes flicked between the two boys.

 

Harry sighed and stood up. He looked down at Peter, whose face was currently hiding in the sleeve of his hoodie. He saw a flash of blue and red underneath it and almost smiled. Peter wearing his Spider-Man suit under his clothes was such a …  _ Peter  _ thing to do. “You can stay here if you want,” he muttered.

 

Peter shook his head and stood up as well. “May needs eggs,” he shrugged. “I promised I’d get her some eggs on the way back.”

 

Harry nodded. A small part of him wondered why it was always eggs. Why did the Parkers run out of eggs so quickly? 

 

There was a pause and Harry watched as something flashed behind Peter’s eyes, something he couldn’t quite catch. 

 

Peter grabbed Harry by the shoulders for a moment, his eyes boring into his so hard that it could probably be considered staring Harry down despite the height difference between them. “I love you,” he said.

 

Harry pushed the extensive line of expletives that started off in his head aside. “Peter I - I love you too,” he managed, allowing himself just that much. 

 

Peter nodded and then his hands fell from Harry’s shoulders and he made his way to the door. “It was nice seeing you again, Felicia,” he muttered.

 

“You too!” she replied, letting the door fall behind him.

 

Harry stared at the door. His breath had gotten increasingly shakier and he wasn’t sure if it was panic creeping up on him or an imminent sadness but he hated the idea of both. 

 

“He’s good for you,” Felicia said, a small smile on her face. 

 

Harry wanted to fall to the floor and scream and cry but he did nothing. “Felicia, it’s killing me,” he replied.

 

She crossed the room, stopping in front of of him and shook her head. “Harry, I don’t know him very well, but I know you. Peter isn’t the one killing you, he’s the one keeping you alive.”

 

He wished that he could believe her. 

 

Felicia reached up and squeezed his shoulder gently. “Do you want me to cancel your meeting?” she asked, voice soft. 

 

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “I can do it.”

 

***

 

It wasn’t that long until Felicia heard footsteps barrelling down the hallway. She hoped that no one was going to call security for that because she knew it was Peter before he stopped in front of her desk, leaning against it and panting hard. She looked up at him, watched him struggle to catch his breath for a moment and considered joking about how he technically wasn’t allowed to run in here before speaking. 

 

“Peter,” she acknowledged, trying her best not to laugh.

 

“Sorry,” he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “I forgot to ask. How long is the meeting?”

 

“Absolute maximum is about two hours but it’s probably going to be less than that,” she replied. 

 

He stood up straighter, breathing starting to come under control. “That’s more than enough time.”

 

Felicia wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself but she nodded anyway. 

 

“Can I use the -” he trailed off, thumb pointing in the direction of the doors that led to Harry’s office. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you.” He smiled at her and then he was running back the way he came again. Felicia wondered briefly what he had planned. Whatever it was she was sure it was going to be adorably nerdy, since that seemed to be what Peter was at his core. She knew immediately that it was absolutely going to (at least) bring a smile to Harry’s face, which was definitely something they all needed. 

 

***

 

Harry truly loved his company. At least, he loved what it could become, what he could turn it into. He hated just about everything else about it, especially investors that left him feeling more exhausted than he’d ever felt after every single meeting with them. The issue was it wasn’t something he could really cut off like he could with the sketchy projects he was steadily eradicating. Oscorp needed its investors to keep running. Harry just found it unfortunate that that was the case. He noticed Felicia out of the corner of his eye, managing to acknowledge her no matter how lost in his thoughts he was. After opening the door to his office, Harry stopped in his tracks. He looked around the room, noting the sheer amount of hotdogs that he knew he didn’t leave in there and then his eyes landed on Peter. Peter who was standing in the middle of the room and looking more smug that Harry had ever seen him in his life.

 

“Peter,” he started, carefully. “What did you do?”

 

“You are looking at,” he stretched out his arms, indicating the whole office, “a hotdog from every single cart in the city.”

 

Harry had no idea how many hotdog carts there were in New York, but he was sure the figure had to be in the hundreds. He wasn’t even going to ask how they’d all ended up in his office. He already knew this was Peter’s doing. 

 

“Felicia told me that you haven’t really eaten today.”

 

“I don’t think eating all these hot dogs will help that,” Harry replied.

 

Peter beamed at him. “Oh I know,” he said. That’s when Harry realised he had one of his hands behind his back now, hiding something. “That’s why I brought you this. A carrot! Now you have a real balanced diet.”

 

Harry stared at him for a moment, looking between Peter, the carrot and the hotdogs. He felt a warmth spread through him. One that had been so absent since he’d gotten back to New York. One that was only ever caused by Peter. “You are such an idiot,” he said, tone laced with affection that he only held for the dork in front of him.

 

“Yes, but I made you smile.”

 

Harry crossed the room so that he was next to Peter, careful not to lean against his desk incase he disturbed one of the hotdogs. “There’s something that you want isn’t there?” he asked, because of course his dumb brain could never let him stay in this happy moment. Peter wouldn’t do something like this  _ just  _ for him. He had to have an ulterior motive. 

 

Peter shook his head, smile falling just a little. “I just want to talk to you about it,” he said. “Your illness and all of that.”

 

Oh. Of course he did. It made sense and of course Peter deserved that much. “I, uh, don’t know that much about it,” he confessed.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I’ve been kind of ignoring that it exists, I think.” Maybe not so much ignoring it as hoping it consumes him as soon as possible, but it seemed like the right thing to say to help ease Peter’s mind.

 

“That doesn’t really sound healthy.”

 

In that moment, Peter had never looked more like his Aunt. There was even the perfect amount of chastising in his tone that he kind of sounded like her. “It’s not,” he admitted.

 

“Can we talk about what you do know then? I want to help you.”

 

He nodded purely because of how desperate Peter looked. “Felicia knows more about it than I do.”

 

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Then we should get her in here.”

 

“What?”

 

Before Harry could stop him, Peter was reaching for the phone that was only linked to the one on Felicia’s desk. He pressed down on the button. “Felicia I think you should get in here,” he said.

 

“What is it?” she asked. 

 

“Peter you probably shouldn’t be-”

 

“Please Felicia, I think it’s really important,” he tried again.

 

Harry had no idea what to say in this situation, but he felt like he had to say  _ something _ . “Felicia, don’t listen to him, it’s not really that important.”

 

“I know that you’re  _ sooo _ busy but maybe you could spare a moment for -”

 

“Peter, stop pressing the button. You’ll break the phone.”

 

“Shut up, Harry. Felicia -”

 

“If you two stop acting like idiots long enough maybe I’ll actually make the effort to come in there,” she cut in.

 

Her tone was so straight laced that Peter seemed unable to stop himself from falling into a fit of laughter. Whether it was from the pure ridiculousness of the situation, or just from Peter’s laugh alone Harry found himself laughing too. He couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened, but it didn’t seem to be something he could control. 

 

Harry realised one thing in that moment, in his office surrounded by hot dogs standing next to Peter who looked like he was about to fall to the floor he was laughing so hard. One thing that hadn’t crossed his mind in the passed few months. One thing that he was sure he’d never think of. Harry realised that he wanted to live. As his eyes remained on Peter, he realised that Felicia had been right, because of course she was. Peter was keeping him alive, and even if Peter had Gwen’s name on his wrist instead his own, it didn’t matter to Harry anymore. Being in this moment, laughing with his best friend and with his assistant still berating them over the phone (because Peter hadn’t managed to let go of the button) that it was enough just the way it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the ending felt a little weird/rushed. I couldn't get it exactly how I needed it but I like this version enough. 
> 
> A quick note on updates: Today is one of maybe two proper days off that I've had between my job and my classes for about the last three weeks or so. What I'm saying is that I update this as often as I can and these chapters can't be rushed. Just be patient with me, friends. 
> 
> Anyway, until next time! (The next chapter is going to be a Big one so get ready)


	11. Memory Becomes Your Partner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is painful. I'm letting you all know that in advance. This chapter is heavy and sad and a lot happens. It's also very long, one of if not the longest so far. I think that's all I can say about it right now. Don't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> The title quote is:   
> “Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.”   
> ― Mitch Albom

The worst part of it was that Harry didn’t realise that it was already too late. Adding to the extensive list of things that Felicia was right about she could now include that she was right about fast tracking the illness, because that wasn’t something that could be undone or possibly even stalled. For Harry, it wasn’t just shaking hands anymore, like he was used to. It wasn’t just having to wear a scarf to hide the welts on his neck. It was coughing for so long that he coughed up blood. It was dizziness and a near-constant headache. It was zoning out in meetings and having to ask Felicia what he’d been doing for hours at a time, because he truly couldn’t remember for himself. There was a heaviness in his limbs that he couldn’t seem to shake, and periods where he lost all his energy entirely and was practically unable to move. It was fading in the worst possible way and yet somehow Harry didn’t seem to mind. The only reason being, of course, was at least there was Peter. Peter who, Harry had made Felicia promise, would not know how bad it was getting. Peter who would never know if Harry had his way. Peter who still smiled at him the same way he did when they were kids, even if Harry felt as far away from that now as he ever had. 

 

There was another layer to the illness, one that neither Harry nor Felicia managed to know anything about. Something that possibly even Norman Osborn himself knew nothing about. The truth was, that the illness hadn’t just been referred to as the Osborn Curse for the sake of it. It all started with flashes, flashes of losing control that Harry had no way of realising. Flashes of green eyes instead of blue. Moments where his skin would be so slick with sweat that it appeared to be yellow and where his veins were popping out of his skin. It could all be attributed to the lost hours. Not only did Harry lose his memory, his time. He also lost himself, for his disease had the ability to twist his mind into something that was no longer his. 

 

***

When Harry woke up in the rubble, he had no idea how the hell he could have possibly got there, or what he was doing there at all. At least Felicia was there with him. Her eyes were wide and as a stinging sensation started making itself known on his cheek he realised that she must have slapped him to wake him up. She grabbed his face, her eyes boring into his and he wondered why she was staring into his soul like that. It wasn’t something she’d ever done before.

 

“Blue eyes,” she muttered, seemingly more to herself than to him. “Blue eyes. Oh, thank god.”

 

Then she was pulling on his arm, gently trying to help him to his feet, but Harry felt so unsteady that he wasn't sure if he’d be able to stand at all. “Felicia, what happened?” he asked, because she always had the answers, surely this wouldn’t be an exception.

 

She shook her head. “We have to get you out of here, Harry, and I’m not going to be able to just drag you on your own.”

 

Harry managed to get to his feet with her help, leaning heavily against her. All his limbs felt heavy, numb as if he’d just run a marathon or something. “What happened?” he tried again.

 

“Harry, now really isn’t the time for that. We have to leave.”

 

She wasn’t even looking at him now and that concerned him. He was starting to hear police sirens and realised that whatever the hell was happening around him definitely wasn’t good. He suddenly felt incredibly on edge, as if there was something pressing against his chest. Maybe he’d been under the rubble at some point. That was impossible though, there’s no way that Felicia could have moved any of it on her own. As he stumbled next to her, trying to shift his weight since she seemed to be struggling, he noticed that she seemed to be much shorter than she usually was. It was then that he saw that Felicia wasn’t wearing her usual heels, in fact, she wasn’t wearing any shoes at all and while Harry found that very strange he definitely didn’t have the headspace right now to ask her about it. He guessed that it was probably a better option, considering all the rubble around.

 

Felicia had started up what seemed to be half a conversation. Harry couldn’t really process all of it but she seemed to be talking to herself anyway, muttering away things about how long they had until the police got here, and how much it (he had no idea what ‘it’ was) was going to cost in damages, and how she really should have kept a better eye on him and guilty she felt. 

 

“Felicia,” he muttered, pulling her to a halt. 

 

Whatever he expected her to look like when she looked up at him, it wasn’t sad and a little bit … scared?

 

“What did I do?” he asked her.

 

He eyes immediately fell to the ground and she shook her head again. “We have to get you home, Harry,” she said.

 

The more time Harry spent standing, the less energy he had, even if he was burning with more and more questions. So he let Felicia lead him and take him back to his apartment which he hadn’t even been to in weeks. He’d practically forgotten what it looked like. The last thing he could remember was falling face first onto his bed. Sleep had never come to him as easy as it did that night.

 

***

 

Harry jolted awake the next morning, flickers of some nightmare tugging at the fringes of his mind. He was hyperventilating before he even realised it. Then the coughing started. He already had a pounding headache so it was clear to him that today wouldn’t be a good day. Harry could hear footsteps moving in the direction of his bedroom and for a moment he thought he was crazy, because no one else was ever in his apartment. Hell, even he was never in his own apartment. 

 

“Morning, sunshine.”

 

He looked up to see Felicia in the doorway. Her hair was a mess, she’d let it down from her ponytail and it was far wavier than usual as a result. Her eye make-up had smudged as well and she looked both incredibly exhausted and entirely unreadable to him which wasn’t something he’d ever thought to expect.

 

“You’re still here?” he asked.

 

She shrugged, crossed her arms over her chest and Harry thought she might have been trying to appear casual. “I couldn’t sleep and I figured someone should hang around and watch over you. Just in case.”

 

_ Just in case of what? _

 

“Did you want some breakfast?”

 

His head snapped up and Harry realised that he could indeed smell food coming from the direction of his kitchen. He couldn’t even remember the last time his kitchen was used, even less so to make something that wasn’t leftover take out that had to be reheated. His stomach grumbled and he nodded, pulling the covers off himself and making to slide from the bed. His limbs felt heavy again. Felicia was by his side in a second, helping him to his feet. He wondered if he should give her another raise for this. 

 

“I didn’t have much to work with,” she was saying as he hobbled next to her down the hallway towards the kitchen, “but I managed to throw some french toast together. All that really takes is bread and egg and sometimes butter.”

 

Harry didn’t even know that he’d had those things. “Thank you, Felicia.”

 

They ate in silence and Harry started to feeling a pressing dread within him. He felt inexplicably guilty and he had no idea why. Whatever he’d done the day before must have been significant, but that wasn’t something he was ready to talk about yet. “You’re good at this,” he said, poking his French toast with his knife.

 

She smiled and seemed calmer than she had all morning. “Cooking relaxes me,” she explained. “It’s just easier, you know? Following a recipe that tells you exactly what you need to do. Having all the steps laid out for you. It’s just … easier.”

 

Harry looked up at her. He really didn’t know what to think. That was probably the most personal thing she had ever told him and he had no idea why he hadn't asked about her hobbies before, about her life. She was such an important part of his. “Will your family be worried that you didn’t come home last night?” he asked.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You know, your partner or whatever,” he shrugged. Felicia was usually wearing a business jacket but right now she had it slung over the back of the chair she was sitting on, so he could see the black armband on her wrist.

 

“Ah,” she muttered, focusing on staring down at her almost finished toast and not at him. “No, no partner.”

 

“Haven’t met your soulmate then?”

 

She shrugged. “It’s … complicated.”

 

Harry didn’t push, he knew how complicated soulmate stuff could be. “What about your parents?”

 

She smiled, her eyes lighting up just a little. “They’re still across the pond, actually. My mum’s a lawyer and my dad lectures at Oxford so they’re all set up over there. When I moved over here they wanted to come with me but I managed to convince them to stay.”

 

A light bulb seemed to spark when Felicia mentioned Oxford. “Peter mentioned that Gwen got into Oxford,” he said. “Maybe she’ll be in some of your dad’s lectures.”

 

Felicia startled but managed to recover so quickly that for a second Harry thought he must have imagined it. She looked up at him again, offered him a sad smile. “Maybe.”

 

It got far too quiet far too quickly after that. Silence hadn’t been an issue for him since boarding school but this was much heavier. There was a weight to it that he didn’t understand or have any way of understanding. All Harry knew was that it was grating on him and that he needed to turn on the TV or something just to fill the room with some kind of noise.

 

“You should have a shower,” she muttered. “It’ll help to get the dust and everything out of your hair.”

 

Dust from the rubble. Right, of course. He nodded.

 

“I’ll clean up here, don’t worry.”

 

Not only was she still his assistant, and most of the time assistant CEO, but now Felicia was even acting as his housekeeper. He really needed to remind her how vital she was. He didn’t tell her that nearly enough. “A raise,” he said, tapping the table as he got to his feet. “You’re getting another raise.”

 

She rolled her eyes with such fondness that a streak of happiness made its way into his heart. “Just go, Harry.”

 

***

 

There were so many bruises on him and he still had absolutely no idea what they’d all come from. They weren’t bruises caused by his illness, that much he could tell. They didn’t look the same as the welts on his neck or anything. They just looked normal bruises, as if he’d fallen over a million times for some reason. He’d never been a clumsy person so it wasn’t something he was used to. He tried to ignore them as best he could, not thinking about them or give them any attention since he had no recollection where they came from but they seemed to consume his thoughts. He had no idea what had happened the day before, and at this point he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know. 

 

He could hear the muffled sounds of the TV as he made his way back towards the living room. Maybe Felicia was getting disturbed by the silence as well. Whatever the reason, he’d never been more grateful to hear the dumb little tune that played before the morning news. He had no way of preparing himself for what he was about to hear as he stopped in the doorway. 

 

_ “The city is still recovering after a large power outage last night that was almost the cause of a plane crash. Two planes that were on a collision course were narrowly saved by, of course, New York’s own Spider-Man.” _

 

“Peter had a rough night then,” he muttered. There was something pulling at the back of his mind. Something about Peter, but this was different than he was used to. Something felt off. 

 

Felicia startled at the sound of his voice and then she went very still. He noticed her hand slide towards the remote and for some reason knew that he needed to stop her. If whatever had happened was too much for her to tell him, then this was the only way he was going to get his answers. 

 

“It’s fine, you can keep it on,” he said. He shrugged and tried to smile at her, tried to seem normal and casual as he took a seat next to her. 

 

She was far too stiff, more so than he had ever seen her. Felicia seemed … nervous and concerned all at once. It wasn’t something that he was used to. She was usually so calm, but now it was putting him on edge as well. He had to expect the worst. The news reporter was still droning on and she only grabbed Harry’s focus again when he heard another mention of Spider-Man.

 

_ “The cause of the blackout has been attributed to Electro, who Spider-Man did manage to defeat last night, but unfortunately for the superhero that wasn’t the only villain that challenged him.” _

 

“Harry,” Felicia muttered, a warning in her voice that Harry couldn’t place the reason for. Not yet at least. There was a part of him that wanted to listen to her. If she was trying to keep this from him then it had to something incredibly serious, he knew that it had to be. There was no reason for her to keep things from him otherwise. That wasn’t something that she did, but he also knew that he needed answers, no matter how hard they were for him to swallow.

 

“You shouldn’t be watching this.”

 

His eyes flicked to her for just a moment, and he paused. He’d never seen her like this before, so cautious and almost shaky. “Why not?” he asked. 

 

_ “While no one seems to know the reason for it, there was another super villain there last night. We don’t have clear footage of him and police are yet to figure out …”  _

 

Harry’s eyes snapped back to the screen and he watched the streak of green that the newreader was referring to. She was right, there wasn’t very clear footage all, but he guessed that the blackout must have damaged some of their cameras or something. He could make out Peter, in the blurry far too washed out footage they were showing. God knew that he’d be able to make out Peter in the pitch blackness of the middle of the night, but for the first time in his life it wasn’t Peter that he was focused on. Not really. As Harry watched the streak of green moving haphazardly around he felt a pull towards it. Something was tugging at him more instantly by the minute, willing him to notice something, to understand. He could feel Felicia’s eyes on him, watching his every move and the more that he stared at the green the more he realised something.

 

“Felicia is that -”  _ me?  _

 

The sharp intake of breath to his right was all the answer that he needed. 

 

“I don’t get it. Why would I be there? Why would I look like that?” 

 

He saw he shake her head out of the corner of her eye and knew that she just about as much knowledge about the current situation as he did. That being, of course, she had no clue what was going on either.

 

_ “Some people are referring to this new villain as The Green Goblin and while police have yet to find a reason for his appearance last night they’re warning citizens that this might not be the last time our city sees him.” _

 

Harry was starting to feel sick and he had no idea why. The longer he stared at the screen the more sick he felt and the more  _ wrong _ he felt. There was still something missing from the night before. Something that he didn’t know. He clenched his hands into fists in his lap and tried to zone back into what the newsreader was saying. The footage faded away and he had nothing left to distract him.

 

_ “Police have confirmed that there were a number of casualties last night.” _

 

Casualties? Of course there were, Electro had been there after all. All he’d done since he’d appeared was cause destruction so that wasn’t too surprising. Unfortunate, but Harry wasn’t surprised by it. 

 

_ “One of the casualties has been confirmed to be Gwen Stacy, daughter of Captain …” _

 

“What?” Harry muttered. On the screen flashed a picture of Gwen standing next to her father and smiling. Harry felt sick. Gwen was dead? That couldn’t be right. “They must be mistaken about that. Maybe it was someone else that was blonde or something.”

 

“Harry -” There was that tone in Felicia’s voice again, that overly cautious warning.

 

He looked over at her. She looked like she was in pain. There was something else that he hadn’t connected yet. Something that he hadn’t realised. Harry looked back at the screen, at the picture of Gwen that was still up.

 

Harry wondered if Felicia could tell when he put all the pieces together. His breathing stopped what must have appeared to be abruptly, like someone had punched him in the gut, because that was definitely what it felt like. It felt like he’d been stabbed, like he was dying. He couldn’t remember a single thing about the night before but somehow he could still feel it. Somewhere in the back of the mind he could hear the glass shattering. He felt ice cold, all of the warmth in the room suddenly non-existent. 

 

“I wouldn’t -” he managed, but that was as far as he got. He wouldn’t have done it. He  _ couldn’t  _ have done it. He would never do that to her, to  _ Peter _ . 

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she replied, but he couldn’t tell if she believed that or not. It absolutely was his fault, and he would never be able to forgive himself for it. No wonder she’d looked so scared of him the night before. He was surprised that she could even stand to be in the same room as him knowing what he did. 

 

He dropped his head into his hands, his breathing coming in quick short bursts. He sunk his fingers into his hair, pulling at it until it hurt. Felicia would usually stop him from doing something like that, something self destructive, but she didn’t this time. She placed her hand against his shoulder, occasionally squeezing it just to let Harry know that she was still there, but really neither of them were completely functioning in that moment. Harry didn’t think he ever wanted to function again. 

 

***

 

It rained the day of Gwen’s funeral. Just like it had rained the day of her father’s, and Harry wondered if this was some kind of last stitch effort to connect the two of them, even in death they were still father and daughter. Harry didn’t go, of course, even if the police hadn’t figured out who the Green Goblin was he knew that it wasn’t a place that he would be welcomed. He watched Gwen’s funeral the same way everyone else in the city did, in the very careful clips that the news was allowed to air. He saw the black umbrellas, he saw four policemen carry her casket with the American Flag draped over it. He even thought that he could see Peter, off to the side at the very edge of the shot, clinging to May and sobbing. Harry wishes that he hadn’t seen it at all. He wished that he couldn’t feel how broken he knew that Peter must have been, but it couldn’t seem to think about anything else. He already knew that he’d never be able to see Peter again. Peter would have a clear memory of what happened that night. He would know that it was Harry that killed Gwen. He would probably never know how much that knowledge had shaken Harry, how guilty and horrible he felt at every single second because of it. How wrong he felt knowing that he’d hurt someone like Gwen, someone that was Peter’s entire world. Harry was sure that Peter would never know that Harry would never forgive himself for it, but surely he would never forgive him either. 

 

***

 

Harry was in the process of doing what he always did when everything was thrown into chaos. He was throwing himself into Oscorp again. The was a particular brutality to his work of late, a recklessness that he couldn’t seem to shake. He wasn't being cautious anymore. He wasn’t waiting anything out and trying to appease people, he was just acting. Harry axed funding to every single program that he’d had on his ‘sketchy’ list. He got rid of every single thing to do with them and fired every single person that he saw as a threat to what he was trying to achieve. Yes, he knew he was angering a lot of people but he didn’t care. 

 

He was pacing back and forth in his office when it happened. It was something he’d been doing for too often lately, being still was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment. When the doors to his office sprung open he didn’t give it much thought. It was probably just Felicia. She wasn’t usually one to burst in with a lot of force but considering how strained things had been over the last week or so he truly couldn’t fault her if she did. There were footsteps moving towards him and it took him far too long to register that there wasn’t the usual clack of Felicia’s heels on the floor. When he looked up at the person before him, he felt his entire being jolt. Even now, with everything thing that had happened and everything that he’d done, he still wanted to just move towards Peter and  _ hold  _ him. 

 

Peter was breathing hard and Harry wondered if he’d run here, if this was an urgent visit for some reason. There was something in his eyes that he couldn’t pinpoint. Something harsh and struggling. “Show me your wrist,” he said, not a question but a demand.

 

Harry blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the words. “Peter what -”

 

“Your wrist, Harry. I need to see it.” There wasn’t any anger in his voice, not really. He just seemed desperate, and a desperate Peter Parker could make Harry do a million things, but as he realised what Peter was asking him he knew that he couldn’t do  _ this _ . 

 

“Peter, I can’t. The rules,” he reminded.

 

Peter shook his head, almost cutting him off. He pulled up the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing. He must have taken his armband off at some point because that’s not what Harry was greeted with. He could see the red scar tissue in the form of Gwen’s name still sitting on Peter’s wrist. That’s what happened when you lost your soulmate, they were still there always a part of you and their death didn’t mean you lost them entirely. But it wasn’t Gwen’s name that Peter was trying to show him, and it wasn’t Gwen’s name that shook Harry to his core. It was something else. Slightly above Gwen’s name, in black were two words that Harry never thought he would see. They were written in neat cursive, in his own handwriting. On Peter’s wrist were the words  _ Harry Osborn _ . 

 

“Did you know about this?” Peter aksed. Harry was immediately drawn to just how  _ frantic  _ he sounded. He’d never seen Peter like this before, so hurt and desperate and shaky and confused and scared all at once. 

 

Harry swallowed hard but couldn’t seem to find the words that he needed. He could practically feel Peter’s impatience reaching a boiling point across from him. He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped breathing and as he gasped for air he felt Peter’s eyes on him. He couldn’t meet them, couldn’t look away from his wrist.

 

When Peter spoke again it was much softer, and so much sadder than Harry wanted it to be. “You were eleven,” he muttered. “Has it been like this for you the whole time?”

 

Harry shook his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled at his hair again, a new habit that he’d picked up that he was sure would end with most of it falling out. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. After years and years of hoping that he would see this, of feeling like he would be Peter’s soulmate it just didn’t feel fair. 

 

“Harry, look at me.”

 

He wanted Peter to yell at him. To yell and scream and tell him that he never wanted to see him again. To push him around and force him out of his life. That’s what was supposed to happen. But Peter was still being Peter and he’d never been in so much pain before. 

 

Peter took a step closer to him and pulled his hands out of his hair. It would have been a normal gesture just a few months ago, but now it was making Harry feel sick. He still refused to open his eyes. 

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

Whatever Harry expected the answer to be, it wasn’t what Peter replied with. “My best friend,” he muttered. “You’re my best friend.”

 

His eyes flew open and he took a step backward away from Peter, trying his best to keep his distance because being close to Peter right now wasn’t going to help anything. “I  _ was  _ your best friend,” he corrected. He had been before he’d done what he did, before he tore Peter’s entire life apart. 

 

“Harry -”

 

“No, don’t. Don’t … say my name like that.” Why wasn’t Peter yelling yet? Why wasn’t he angry yet? Why hadn’t he left yet?  _ Why was he still being so kind to him _ ?

 

“How else would I say it?”

 

Harry had always hated himself, that he knew, but he’d never hated himself more than he did in this moment with Peter still standing in front of him and looking entirely broken but somehow still hopeful all at once, regardless of how confused he was and how tired he must have been. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a year and Harry was sure that was because of the grief. Even with Peter standing in front of him looking a million years older and yet somehow still the same, soft Peter that he’d always known. Even knowing that he should have been pulling away as much as he could, Harry couldn’t help the need to give in to him. He rolled the sleeve of his jacket up, ignoring the fading bruises that were lining his arm and pulled his armband off. The words  _ Peter Parker  _ staring up at him. 

 

“Is that what you needed to see?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> 1\. The title quote isn't referring to Peter/Harry for this chapter, it's referring to Peter/Gwen and I needed to write that somewhere.   
> 2\. For the sake of this fic, I see the Green Goblin as a personification of Harry's illness. I don't know a lot about that side of his character but if Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin once and Harry is the Green Goblin now then that's how I'll twist it for this.   
> 3\. I don't see Peter as a particularly angry person. Initially I wanted him to be really angry in that last scene but that didn't feel like Peter to me so I wrote it this way instead and somehow this hurts me more so that's how it'll stay. 
> 
> The next chapter will be the very last one of this fic. Before you ask, no I'm not going to tie everything up then. Stay tuned for an announcement at the end of the chapter. That's all for now. I'll see you next time <3


	12. If I Thought You Would, I'd Never Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, we have reached the very end of the fic if you can believe it. I posted this chapter today because it's been an entire year since I posted the first one and I'm sentimental. Thank you to everyone who's read it (whether it was all the way through or not tbh), left comments and kudos and all that stuff. I really appreciate it. This fic has been an absolute pleasure (and pain) to work on. I'll see you all on the other side.  
> Chapter title quote: “Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.”  
> ― A.A. Milne

By the time Harry managed to find the courage to go and visit Gwen it was well into spring and on the cusp of summer, which meant that it was so insanely warm outside that it was uncomfortable. He supposed that the upside was that at least there were a million flowers for him to choose from. He didn’t know Gwen’s favourite flower (and neither did Felicia, he’d checked) but he picked out the most colorful bouquet he could find with no regard for what it was composed of. The lady behind the counter asked him if it was for someone special he told her that he guessed she could see it like that. 

 

He’d tried to time it so that there would be as little people in the graveyard as possible. It was the middle of the day on a weekday, the large majority of people would have been at work or school, anywhere but here. There were very few people there at all and even so he was hoping they wouldn’t pay him any attention. They had no reason to, of course, he was the there for the same reasons they were. As he made his way along, trying to find Gwen’s headstone he could hear someone crying up ahead and desperately tried to block it out. Gwen’s grave was next to her father’s and it was almost touching, except for that now Harry had to be next to another man that he’d failed. He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning around him quickly before dropping to the ground. He gently placed the flowers so that were leaning against her headstone and sat back on his heels. He needed to talk to her. He just didn’t have the words, or know the right ways, to say what he meant.

 

“I’m sure,” he muttered, swallowing back the lump in his throat and trying his best, “that I’m not welcome here and I shouldn’t be but there is so much -” A hand feel against his chest.  _ Guilt?  _ Was that was he was trying to say? Was he trying to tell her how awful he felt about what he’d done to her, and to Peter. He pulled at his hair and then forced his hands into his lap. 

 

“I don’t remember any of it,” he continued, voice so quiet that if there was even a slight breeze it would have drifted his words away with it. “I don’t remember how I got there or how it happened or what I did but I -” he faltered, tears catching up to him. He dragged a hand across his eyes angrily. “I would take your place,” he said. “Every second, I would.”

 

There was so much that he wanted to say, that he needed to say to her, but that was the most of it. He would die at any second if it would bring Gwen back. He would invent time travel just to go back and make sure she was safe, but that wasn’t something he could do. Not really. 

 

It was so insanely quiet around him that it had started grating on him already. He dug his nails into his palms and soldiered on. There was something he’d been thinking about lately, a thought that had been plaguing him since her death. “Did you know, Gwen?” he asked, as if he would get an answer. “Did you know about me, about how I feel about -”  _ Peter _ . He faltered, unable to stop the tears this time. He hadn’t been able to say Peter’s name. Not since he’d walked out of his office that day without so much as another word, and Harry knew that he deserved it. He deserved to never see Peter again, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’d never be able to, and even if he didn’t know what had turned him into that green thing, into the Green Goblin, he was sure being driven mad certainly wouldn’t help.

 

That brought him to his next point. “I’m building something for you,” he muttered, staring intently at her name. “At Oscorp. We’re building something. Not building as in construction, we’re not building you a new wing or anything, it’s something else. I guess, we did rename one of the labs in your honor though so there was that.” He paused, his brain working too fast for him to find his next words. Since mentioning the project it was starting to spiral into other trains of thought, thoughts about much it had cost and what it did and how great it was and the way Felicia had smiled at him, really smiled, when he’d brought up the idea with her. “I haven’t told,” he swallowed, “Him yet but if he likes it then it’ll all be worth it.”

 

He’d tried not to think about Peter’s reaction to what he was building, but of course, he’d tried not to think about Peter in a lot of ways. He always found a way in. He just hoped that Peter liked it, that it was some kind of reassurance for him that Gwen’s legacy wouldn’t be forgotten. Harry wanted Peter to see it as proof. Proof that he would never forgive himself for what he did, proof that he would do anything to take it back. He just hoped that someway, somehow, Peter would be grateful for it.

 

“This isn’t my life, Gwen,” he whispered. “This is your life, and I’m never going to deserve it.”

 

***

There were only a handful of things that Harry had left to do. He’d already decided that he was leaving, New York was far too much for him, and considering his condition he didn’t think he should be the CEO of Oscorp anymore. He had nothing left here, in this city that he loved so much. He hoped that it would be easier to leave this time. He’d already told Felicia that he was making her the new CEO of Oscorp. There was no other person in the entire company that he thought could do the job as well as she could, as well as she already did. She was practically born for it. She was cautious when he first told her, probably unsure if he was lying or if he was going to take it back in a few days, but he was sure. He was leaving and Felicia was the new CEO of Oscorp. He didn’t plan on telling anyone that, at least not until he left. It didn’t matter to him how people would react when they found out. He was sure that everyone was far more fond of Felicia than they were of him anyway, and if there was anyone that needed their employment terminated, he knew that Felicia was more than capable of that. 

 

***

 

The day of his flight and the day that the project he’d created in Gwen’s memory was entirely finalised just so happened to be the same. He’d planned it that way. It was exactly how he wanted it. Gwen’s project wouldn’t officially open until the day after, but that wasn’t something he wanted to be present for. It would be Felicia’s first real event as CEO, and he know with every with every single ounce of faith left in him, that she would kill it. His company had been the main thing that he needed to handle and with it out of his hands and just a few hours before his flight he only had one thing left to do. 

 

Harry stood at the front door of the Parker residence with two envelopes in his hands and absolutely shaking despite the heat. He knew that Peter wasn’t home, but it wasn’t Peter he came to see this time. When May pulled the door open her expression went from neutral to concerned in less than a second. 

 

“Oh, Harry,” she muttered, her eyes raking over him. He knew he looked like an absolute mess. He always did these days, but May hadn’t seen him like this before and for a moment he almost regretted forcing her to, but this was something that he needed to do. “Come inside, you don’t have to stand out there on the doorstep.” She held the door open and Harry only hesitated for a second. 

 

“I don’t have long,” he said to her.

 

She nodded, patted his shoulder and lead him in the direction of the kitchen. 

 

He sat down at the table across from her without thinking. He placed the two letters down in front of him and realised just how hard this was going to be for him. “I’m leaving,” he muttered, staring down at the letters, “again.”

 

“I know.”

 

He startled at that, looking up at her. He shouldn’t have been surprised, May knew him, she knew every single move that he made before he did. That’s what mothers were like. 

 

“You come to say goodbye,” she added.

 

Harry felt sick. He could feel the tears starting to form, his throat felt tight already. He slid one of the letters across the table. “If you could give this to -” he swallowed, “Peter … I would be ... very grateful.”

 

She nodded and took the letter. 

 

He was almost confused that she was being so quiet. Part of him thought that she would have a lot to say. That she would try and convince him to stay, but again he was reminded just how much May knew him. She knew that nothing could change his mind once he’d made it up, and if he felt that this was the right thing to do then she was going to support him. He slid the second letter across the table. “This is for you,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s a cheque. I’m not going to tell you how much for because I know you won’t want to take it but please -” he broke off, wiping angrily at his eyes. “It should cover everything,” he explained. “All the damages I’ve made and it’s for you and for Peter and for Ben because I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here for any of it.” He was crying before he could stop himself, tears spilling from his eyes and running down his cheeks.

 

May moved next to him, put an arm around him and tried to comfort him. 

 

Harry knew that he still had more words he had to force out. “You’ve always struggled, May,” he continued. “You always have and you’ve given me and Peter both so much and I don’t want you to have to struggle anymore.”

 

May pulled him into a hug and he clung to her like she was the last thing holding him to this planet, to this life. She tried to soothe him, patted his back and constantly muttered that it was ok, that everything was going to be fine. Harry just wished that he could believe her. 

 

He had one more question for her. He pulled away so that he could meet her eyes. “Did you know?” he asked. “About me, about -” 

 

She was nodding before he’d even finished his sentence. “Of course I do,” she said. “You’ve always looked at him like he was your entire world, Harry.”

 

“He was.”

 

“He  _ is _ ,” she corrected. 

 

She was right, of course. Peter always would be and there was nothing he could do about it. He muttered something about needing to leave, about how he couldn’t miss his flight and May helped lead him back to the door.

 

She stopped once the two of them got there, her eyes sad and worried and for a long moment she just looked at him. “You’ve always done everything for someone else, Harry,” she said. “You always lived for someone else, for Peter. If you want to do this then by all means do so, but make sure that you do it for yourself.”

 

He had no idea what to say to that. Of course he’d always lived for Peter. Peter was all he’d ever had. It’s just that that wasn’t a reality he could have anymore, not something he deserved in the slightest, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t know how to live for himself, he didn’t think he was capable of it, but he would try. Even if it was just for her. Her guessed that that would defeat the point, but it was the only way he knew. 

 

May grabbed his face gently. “Remember to drink water on the plane,” she reminded. “Make sure that you eat something before you get there and remember that the jet lag will pass.”

 

He was crying again, the familiarity of the words shaking him to his core. He pulled her into another hug before he finally forced himself down the Parker’s front steps and onto the street. He heard the door close and wanted so desperately for the ground to swallow him up whole right there. He checked his watch, knowing that he needed to keep an eye on the time so he didn’t miss his flight. He still had just enough time. Just enough to see Felicia. He headed for Oscorp for one last time. 

 

***

 

He walked into the office that was now Felicia’s office. Already the place looked so much brighter and livelier than when it was his. Felicia was hanging some art on the walls. Bright colours splashed onto canvases that practically lit up the room on their own. 

 

“Hey,” she smiled, faintly. “Heading to the airport now?”

 

She looked so happy and Harry wanted nothing more than for her to feel that way forever. “I owe you my life,” he said. 

 

She shook her head, made her way over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders to ground him. “You gave me your life,” she replied. “All of this,” she gestured around the office “is yours.”

 

“It’s yours now .”

 

She pulled him into a hug. He hadn’t really hugged Felicia but in no time he was crying again and she tightened her grip on him. 

 

“Message me when you get there, wherever you’re going. Don’t think I’m going to stop checking up on you.”

 

He nodded into her shoulder. “I will.”

 

“You better,” she pulled away, eyes boring into his. 

 

“Thank you, Felicia,” he managed, even with his throat closing up. “For everything.”

 

“If you don’t take care of yourself I’m going to materialise to slap you in the face.”

 

He cracked a smile at that. “That won’t be necessary.”

 

“Good.”

 

***

 

Peter spent most of his time of late on an entirely different plane of existence. It helped him try and stay away from his thoughts, because that really wasn’t the best place to be at the moment. He was trying to shut everything out, at least during the day when he could help it. When he could distract himself with a thousand things, like taking pictures of Spider-Man for the Bugle or looking up new bands to listen to or wandering aimlessly through the city and almost crying whenever he saw a hotdog stand. You know, normal things that people did in New York. Being Spider-Man helped of course. It was a lot easier for him to distract himself when he was doing good for other people. It didn’t matter how he felt himself as long as he got to put smiles on other people’s faces. When he arrived home that day everything came crashing down again. 

 

The first thing he heard when he walked in the door was the sound of someone crying. It took him far more time that it should have for him to register that it was May, and far less time for him to immediately panic. 

 

“May!” he called, following the sound into the kitchen. May was sitting at the kitchen table. She was holding something in her hands, some kind of piece of paper or something but Peter had no idea what it was. She dropped it face down when she saw him, as if she was hiding it from him. He didn’t care, rushing over her and dropping into the seat next to her.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

She shook her head, unable to talk quite yet.

 

Peter’s heart had been broken far too many times in the passed few weeks, but this was the icing on the cake. He waited.

 

May took a deep breath, swallowed hard and looked up at him. “He’s a good boy,” she said. 

 

Peter knew there was only one person that she could have been referring to like that. His stomach dropped. 

 

“He brought this for you,” she added, handing him an envelope. 

 

Peter looked down at the all too familiar cursive. There was no address, since the letter didn’t need to be delivered by post, just his name but it was enough to start the waterworks. Peter didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew whatever it was, he was feeling a lot of it. 

 

“I don’t think I can open it,” he muttered. 

 

“You should, Peter. Just once.”

 

She was right. She was always right. Peter looked between May and the piece of paper still resting against the table. “What did he give you?” he asked.

 

“Something far less important than your letter.”

 

He almost wanted to roll his eyes at that. “Fine. I’ll open it.” 

 

It took Peter far longer than it should have for him to do so. His hands were so unsteady, shaking more than they had in his entire life and there were more than a few times that he almost gave up and handed the letter to May to open, but this was something that he needed to do himself. When he finally got the envelope open it took all of his strength just to get the letter out, and then even more to open it. He stared down at the words, not yet reading them but noting the handwriting. Whatever Harry had written, Peter knew that it was a goodbye. He could feel it. Somehow he could feel that Harry wasn’t in the country anymore, could feel him somewhere far away from New York. For a moment, Peter hoped that there was an address because just for one moment he was filled with the need to follow him, but the letter had far too many words for that. He thought back to all the letters they’d sent as kids. He thought about how letters were the only way they could talk to each other for so long. It was fitting, he supposed, for it to end like this. For this to end with a letter. He looked up at May, who’d calmed down enough now that she was no longer crying. Fitting again, he supposed, because he was sure that he was about to start. Really start. Peter looked down at the words. It took him awhile for him to force his eyes to focus on them, to see them as more as just an example of Harry’s annoyingly perfect handwriting, and as soon as he did, he was torn apart. 

 

_ Peter, _

 

_ You don’t have to read this. You have no obligation to me anymore, but I hope that you do. This is the last time I’ll be able to talk to you and there’s so much I want to say. I don’t think I’ll be able to say it all. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, Pete. All of it. Please know that I would take her place. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I’m sorry. I should never have come back to New York. There was no place for me here. You had everything and I took it all away from you. You deserve so much better.  _

 

_ I know that you’ll probably want to avoid Oscorp, but something’s being unveiled there tomorrow and I want you to see it. You don’t have to go tomorrow, though I think Felicia would like to see you there. I won’t be there, Peter, if that helps your decision. Just please go at some point. That’s all I ask. It’s for her. For Gwen, as much as it’s for you. I needed to do something for her. I know that must feel unfair, but I did. I just hope that you like the result.  _

 

_ To answer your question from before. Yes, it’s been like this for me the whole time. Yes, I’ve had your name on my wrist since we were kids. Yes, I waited for you. I’ll be on my flight by the time you get this. You won’t have to see me again. I hope it makes it easier for you. You’re everything to me, Peter. I shouldn’t tell you that but I don’t think it matters anymore. You always have been. I love you. I always will.  _

 

_ Harry _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it interests anyone I'm working on a sequel for this fic. I made on post on my Tumblr if you want more info about it. Embedding links won't work properly for me for some reason but you can find it here: http://potter-awakening.tumblr.com/post/173112046721/all-is-fair-in-love-update


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